This is about as candid as I get, folks.
When my cousin Denise was about, let's say, 15, she wanted to pick out songs to play at her wedding. (Isn't that cute.) She wanted my advice on them. (Isn't that cute.) One song she played for me was "Heaven" by Bryan Adams. It was the first time I had heard it. She didn't care for it, but I immediately fell in love with it. Yes, it's a power ballad. Yes, it's Bryan Adams. Yes, ... you know what, fuck you all, I love this song. Because I just do, so there.
When I was a freshman there was a "dance" "club" version of the song made, sung by some chick. I guess it was somewhat popular (my aversion to the radio has been going on for a few years now). Because I could hear it wafting on the breeze all the time. It was horrible, and I wanted to cry tears of blood and murder bystanders every time I heard it. It was as if they were urinating on the graves of my ancestors, that's how offended I was by this song. Anyway.
There's a lyric somewhere around the middle, and it doesn't rhyme, and it always kind of stuck out to me because it seems awkward, but not in an awkward way. It's: "Now nothing can take you away from me/We've been down that road before but that's over now". I always wondered if, were I to play this at my own wedding, if I would have to go through some lost love trauma in order to qualify. And it's one short line, amidst an entire song of simple romantic lines.
Life, it seems, is much simpler in theory than it is in practice. If this song is about real people, than that line can recount an unexplainable amount of tears and sorrow, and make them seem utterly insignificant. Because "that's over now". And there seems like there should be more explanation. How were they split apart, how did they come back together? All very important questions, that, I suppose, deserve answers. But on the other hand, it doesn't matter. The whys don't matter.
I think that true love is very rare. I also think it's very dangerous. Because true love makes one person dependent on another for their very survival. The presence or lack of presence of a single person in your life can dictate whether you are happy or not. But what do you do when that person isn't there anymore? My cousin Teresa (1st cousin, once removed) was married to a man named Gus. She was always a sarcastic, and some would say dour person (she was great), but she loved him with all her heart, and he made her extremely happy. And then, as people are wont to do, he died. And she kept living, but completely apathetically. She just sort of hung around, waiting to die. And then when she got sick, she just didn't fight it, and she let it win. And I can think of other examples.
That elusive, true, unconditional love is one of life's biggest high-stakes gambles. Because when you're winning, you are in the metaphorical money. But when you lose, you lose everything. And sometimes I wonder if the gain balances out the eventual loss.
And it's thinking about things like this that really make me marvel at my Aunt Rose. She turned 90 this August. She married my Uncle Joe when she was 16. He was 20. ("Oh, well I was almost seventeen!" - Aunt Rose) My Uncle Joe died on New Year's Day, 1990. They were married for 60 years. I don't know how I would deal with that. I don't know how she dealt with her son dying of a heart attack before he turned 40. I don't know how she dealt with her daughter (Teresa) give up on life with nothing she could do to help her. I don't know how she can handle having only one living sibling, when she originally had six. I don't know how she managed to be so strong, beautiful, and kind after the life she had.
She is a miracle. I am in awe.
I suppose this entry was supposed to capture a feeling or a state of being that I've been in lately. There are some times that I worry about what other people will think and say, and how that will affect me. And sometimes I just think, "Nuts to other people". Because I am happy. And I like being that way. And I am very much in love with someone. And if this is not the definition of unconditional love, then I don't know what is. And ironically, this person loves me.
And that's what's important.
Alright, you may resume the rest of your lives.
Wednesday
Thursday
Wherein I both post a list, and then critique it, thus being as complacently anal as is humanly possible.
Alrighty, so, I live in a dorm. And we have some preceptors. These kids are students who for some reason decided that they wanted to be in charge of stuff. So they do things like put up information inside the dorms, listen to student complaints, organize activities; a whole bunch of crap. The preceptor for the second and third floors of my building (and therefore "my" preceptor) is named Jen. Or you can "call" her Jen, if you're British. Anyway, she is a very nice girl with long red hair, and she's perky and sweet and I enjoy her company a bunch. However, I must question some of the choices that she makes as a preceptor. Like, for example, the bafflingly crass bulletin board in my hallway. Which I will not go into at this time. Maybe later. Anyway, no, here I am going to review and evaluate some "Bathroom Etiquette" flyers that she wrote and taped up in the 'throoms. I will highlight her words in bold, so that I can avoid using italics, for Stephanie's sake. (and also my own)
BATHROOM ETIQUETTE
I should note that this whole thing is centered on the paper, and in a script-y font. I may look through my fonts to see which one it is later, but blah, not right now. Anyway, I think it's far too flashy for a memorandum of utilitarian instruction.
1. When finished using the facilities, FLUSH!!! It's the right thing to do!!
Okay, some more notes on form. You will note if you continue reading that there are a lot of exclamation marks on this puppy. Seriously, it gives me a headache. I don't think any of this information is really *that* important. Also, since she's already using a flowy, slanty font, italics for emphasis don't seem to be an option. So she has opted to use capitalization. I don't approve. I have the same problem that I do with the exclamations. It's not that critical. Alright, moving on to content. My main objection with this is the ambiguity of the first sentence. "Facilities"? If you mean the toilet, say "toilet". We are not the Queen. The bathroom has many facilities, such as the sinks and the showers. Should we also flush after using them? (You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously. Higher education or not, most college students are really simple.) Now the second sentence. I don't like how this implies that flushing the toilet is a moral obligation. Making value judgments is wrong.
2. If you "sprinkle" on the seat, CLEAN IT!!! After all it is yours!!
Again, with the cutesy words. "Sprinkle" will not motivate the populace. Seriously, I don't know of many girls who will have a problem not spraying urine on a toilet seat. Unless of course, they're using that "hover" technique in a public restroom, the logistics of which simply baffle me. I don't think anyone will be doing that for a year on what is essentially, their home toilet. Again with the over emphatic emphasis. And, may I ask, what is she trying to instill is mine? The accidentally sprayed urine, or the seat cover? It's so unclear. Why am I doing this again? What's my motivation?
3. The courtesy flush- enough said!!!
Um. Actually, it really isn't. I have no idea what the "courtesy flush" is. The only time I've heard it before now is in that one scene in the first Austin Powers movie. If this really is essential to acting in a refined manner whilst in the rest room, I really think the terms should be explained, and not left up to faith that they are universally understood.
4. If your hair falls out in the shower, the least you can do is turn the nozzle towards the hair so it goes down the DRAIN!!! No one wants to see someone else's hair in the shower!!
Okay, this I don't even know what to make of. She's actually advocating that we stuff the drains full with our hair. Am I the only one who forsees problems here? Mainly the one caused by the fact that hair clogs a drain? I also object to the fact that this is a blatantly subjective method for dealing with shower-shedding. I shed immensely when I'm in the shower, mostly because I finger-comb my hair when I use conditioner, to ensure even and silky body. Anyway, usually, the hair will come out in my fingers. And I stick it on the wall. And then, when I'm through showering, I use my patented finger-swirl method to remove the hair, and I deposit it in the trash when I leave. Now, if you ask me, I think this is a brilliant and fabulous system, especially if you have long hair, as I do. However, I also understand that this is a personal preference, and would never command anyone else to follow my own personal method for hair maintenance. Also, I'd like this opportunity to say that I don't know why hair is so gross. It's hair; we're all mammals and we all have it. It's in the shower, so you know it's clean, and you wouldn't be grossed out if it was still attached to its owner's head. Having said that, though ... geugh. Hair in the shower is freakin' icky.
5. Food in the sink, it's just GROSS!!! Food belongs in your mouth, stomach, or in the trash!!
Sigh. No really, sigh. First of all, food in the sink is not "just" gross. It's also inconvenient and repugnant and off-putting, and a host of other adjectives that I can think of just in this sitting. Also, I am upset at the lack of correct punctuation. Colon, not comma. Also, I dislike the value judgments again here. The food "belongs" somewhere, like it has some sort of social obligation to stay in its place. Also, on a strictly scientific level, the second sentence is incorrect. There are many other places where it is acceptable to find food. The esophagus, for example, or the small intestine. As a matter of fact, the entire digestive tract. Also, when food is not in use, it does not need to be in the trash. It can be in a storage or serving container, which I believe is where most of the world's food actually is. What's really wrong with this rule is that it lacks an instruction of any kind. I *think* her point is that you are not to leave food in the sink. In which case that's what should be stated, not all this other mumbo jumbo.
6. Wash your hands before leaving the bathroom!!! Basically this will not spread germs between people!!
"Well, science girl, if you're so sure of what it ain't, how about telling us what it am?" Finally, an actual instruction. Then of course, she has to go and mess it up with the second line. First of all, you want to get that "basically" out of there. To be blatantly misogynistic for a moment, you can totally tell that this was written by a chick. She presents a piece of fact, but then modifies it when she relates it by inserting an ameliorating word ("basically") so that the sentence becomes less forceful. I have noticed that I do this all the time. My writing is peppered with the words "essentially" and "basically" and "possibley". I like the way I write, and I don't want to change, but sometimes I do consider the socio-political reasons for why I insert these words, and I do feel like I should break free of oppression and stop being subjugated by ... stuff. Eh, whatever. I'm gonna go shave my legs and wear something pink. I'm sorry, I got way off-topic there. Anyway! The major problem in the second sentence is that it explains what will *not* happen if you take a certain action. Well, seriously, if you think about it, the list of things that will *not* happen if you take a certain action are infinite. It's much clearer and much more precise to state what desired outcome *will* happen if you take a requested action. It would be better to say "This will stop the spread of germs between people." Of course, that's untrue, though. Because people are germy little fucks. So you'd have to choose a more politic yet still effective phrasing such as "This will help curb the spread of germ transmission between people in the hall." Hot damn, I should be a speech-writer.
Thank you so much for your consideration, this will make our community much nicer to live in!!!!
Ah, the closer. And to signify that we are at the end, there are four exclamation marks!!!! Isn't that super? Anyway, I always find that it's nice to thank people in advance, especially if you know that they just sat through reading something that was really poorly written, but I would never thank anyone "so much" when they haven't technically done anything yet. I also don't like this because it implies that the *consideration* is what will make the community a nicer place to live in. This is untrue, it is the implementation of the ideas discussed in the paper that will better the environment of the bathroom. This, I think is where conditional phrasing needs to be employed. This sounds too final, like if you've gotten to the end of this flyer, then your work is done. There is nothing to imply that this needs to be an ongoing effort to be effective. It's a flawed ending to a well-intentioned but poorly realized proposition.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the kind of crap that I think about all the time. Isn't it devastatingly fascinating to be me?
BATHROOM ETIQUETTE
I should note that this whole thing is centered on the paper, and in a script-y font. I may look through my fonts to see which one it is later, but blah, not right now. Anyway, I think it's far too flashy for a memorandum of utilitarian instruction.
1. When finished using the facilities, FLUSH!!! It's the right thing to do!!
Okay, some more notes on form. You will note if you continue reading that there are a lot of exclamation marks on this puppy. Seriously, it gives me a headache. I don't think any of this information is really *that* important. Also, since she's already using a flowy, slanty font, italics for emphasis don't seem to be an option. So she has opted to use capitalization. I don't approve. I have the same problem that I do with the exclamations. It's not that critical. Alright, moving on to content. My main objection with this is the ambiguity of the first sentence. "Facilities"? If you mean the toilet, say "toilet". We are not the Queen. The bathroom has many facilities, such as the sinks and the showers. Should we also flush after using them? (You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously. Higher education or not, most college students are really simple.) Now the second sentence. I don't like how this implies that flushing the toilet is a moral obligation. Making value judgments is wrong.
2. If you "sprinkle" on the seat, CLEAN IT!!! After all it is yours!!
Again, with the cutesy words. "Sprinkle" will not motivate the populace. Seriously, I don't know of many girls who will have a problem not spraying urine on a toilet seat. Unless of course, they're using that "hover" technique in a public restroom, the logistics of which simply baffle me. I don't think anyone will be doing that for a year on what is essentially, their home toilet. Again with the over emphatic emphasis. And, may I ask, what is she trying to instill is mine? The accidentally sprayed urine, or the seat cover? It's so unclear. Why am I doing this again? What's my motivation?
3. The courtesy flush- enough said!!!
Um. Actually, it really isn't. I have no idea what the "courtesy flush" is. The only time I've heard it before now is in that one scene in the first Austin Powers movie. If this really is essential to acting in a refined manner whilst in the rest room, I really think the terms should be explained, and not left up to faith that they are universally understood.
4. If your hair falls out in the shower, the least you can do is turn the nozzle towards the hair so it goes down the DRAIN!!! No one wants to see someone else's hair in the shower!!
Okay, this I don't even know what to make of. She's actually advocating that we stuff the drains full with our hair. Am I the only one who forsees problems here? Mainly the one caused by the fact that hair clogs a drain? I also object to the fact that this is a blatantly subjective method for dealing with shower-shedding. I shed immensely when I'm in the shower, mostly because I finger-comb my hair when I use conditioner, to ensure even and silky body. Anyway, usually, the hair will come out in my fingers. And I stick it on the wall. And then, when I'm through showering, I use my patented finger-swirl method to remove the hair, and I deposit it in the trash when I leave. Now, if you ask me, I think this is a brilliant and fabulous system, especially if you have long hair, as I do. However, I also understand that this is a personal preference, and would never command anyone else to follow my own personal method for hair maintenance. Also, I'd like this opportunity to say that I don't know why hair is so gross. It's hair; we're all mammals and we all have it. It's in the shower, so you know it's clean, and you wouldn't be grossed out if it was still attached to its owner's head. Having said that, though ... geugh. Hair in the shower is freakin' icky.
5. Food in the sink, it's just GROSS!!! Food belongs in your mouth, stomach, or in the trash!!
Sigh. No really, sigh. First of all, food in the sink is not "just" gross. It's also inconvenient and repugnant and off-putting, and a host of other adjectives that I can think of just in this sitting. Also, I am upset at the lack of correct punctuation. Colon, not comma. Also, I dislike the value judgments again here. The food "belongs" somewhere, like it has some sort of social obligation to stay in its place. Also, on a strictly scientific level, the second sentence is incorrect. There are many other places where it is acceptable to find food. The esophagus, for example, or the small intestine. As a matter of fact, the entire digestive tract. Also, when food is not in use, it does not need to be in the trash. It can be in a storage or serving container, which I believe is where most of the world's food actually is. What's really wrong with this rule is that it lacks an instruction of any kind. I *think* her point is that you are not to leave food in the sink. In which case that's what should be stated, not all this other mumbo jumbo.
6. Wash your hands before leaving the bathroom!!! Basically this will not spread germs between people!!
"Well, science girl, if you're so sure of what it ain't, how about telling us what it am?" Finally, an actual instruction. Then of course, she has to go and mess it up with the second line. First of all, you want to get that "basically" out of there. To be blatantly misogynistic for a moment, you can totally tell that this was written by a chick. She presents a piece of fact, but then modifies it when she relates it by inserting an ameliorating word ("basically") so that the sentence becomes less forceful. I have noticed that I do this all the time. My writing is peppered with the words "essentially" and "basically" and "possibley". I like the way I write, and I don't want to change, but sometimes I do consider the socio-political reasons for why I insert these words, and I do feel like I should break free of oppression and stop being subjugated by ... stuff. Eh, whatever. I'm gonna go shave my legs and wear something pink. I'm sorry, I got way off-topic there. Anyway! The major problem in the second sentence is that it explains what will *not* happen if you take a certain action. Well, seriously, if you think about it, the list of things that will *not* happen if you take a certain action are infinite. It's much clearer and much more precise to state what desired outcome *will* happen if you take a requested action. It would be better to say "This will stop the spread of germs between people." Of course, that's untrue, though. Because people are germy little fucks. So you'd have to choose a more politic yet still effective phrasing such as "This will help curb the spread of germ transmission between people in the hall." Hot damn, I should be a speech-writer.
Thank you so much for your consideration, this will make our community much nicer to live in!!!!
Ah, the closer. And to signify that we are at the end, there are four exclamation marks!!!! Isn't that super? Anyway, I always find that it's nice to thank people in advance, especially if you know that they just sat through reading something that was really poorly written, but I would never thank anyone "so much" when they haven't technically done anything yet. I also don't like this because it implies that the *consideration* is what will make the community a nicer place to live in. This is untrue, it is the implementation of the ideas discussed in the paper that will better the environment of the bathroom. This, I think is where conditional phrasing needs to be employed. This sounds too final, like if you've gotten to the end of this flyer, then your work is done. There is nothing to imply that this needs to be an ongoing effort to be effective. It's a flawed ending to a well-intentioned but poorly realized proposition.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the kind of crap that I think about all the time. Isn't it devastatingly fascinating to be me?
Wednesday
View, again.
[Begin Spoiler for Angel 5.2, "Just Rewards" — Highlight to view]
Dude! Dude!! Dude!!! I make that noise! That noise that Villain Of The Week Who Was Actually A Good Actor That I Enjoyed Watching made when he did that whateveritwas that he did at the end! That's my humming noise. That I often mention making but that I don't think anyone reading this has ever heard me make. (Ironically, I'm making the noise as I type this.) Perhaps I too can control the dead.
I must admit (probably to Kirk's disappointment) that some parts of this had me laughing out loud. Some parts of it were just well done. And some conversations (like Angel comparing his soul-searching to Spike's lack thereof) were needed in this universe.
Unfortunately, mentioning it doesn't fix it. It's nice to know that Whosoever thought "Hey, Spike never actually became a better person after getting a soul" can feel validated by this episode, but it really only serves to highlight the flaws and confusion.
Speaking of highlights, I really love Harm. I really, really do. Such wisdom and pith.
I liked this episode, but I am still undecided on what I think of this plot-line. So this review is crappy and disjointed. I have no real opinions. Except on this one point: To me, it was absolutely 100% obvious that Angel was sending Lawyer With The Yellow Tie to his death. "Hey, go tell an extremely evil person some bad news" equals death. Angel should know this. I knew this. Anyone who has ever watched this show before should know this. Why did everyone seem so surprised when he wound up as dead as he so logically would have?
I suppose that everyone who's worried about how they're going to handle this whole "running a law firm" plot should be grateful for Spike. And I suppose everyone who's worried about how they're going to handle this whole "Spike" plot-line should be glad for the crappy lawyer story. Because the writers will now split their attention between them, and never fully explore either. Why that should make anyone happy, I don't know. Variety, I guess.
It's nice that Spike still feels like Buffy's his property. You keep holding on to that dream, Spike. You'll fuck her into submission someday.
[End Spoiler]
Dude! Dude!! Dude!!! I make that noise! That noise that Villain Of The Week Who Was Actually A Good Actor That I Enjoyed Watching made when he did that whateveritwas that he did at the end! That's my humming noise. That I often mention making but that I don't think anyone reading this has ever heard me make. (Ironically, I'm making the noise as I type this.) Perhaps I too can control the dead.
I must admit (probably to Kirk's disappointment) that some parts of this had me laughing out loud. Some parts of it were just well done. And some conversations (like Angel comparing his soul-searching to Spike's lack thereof) were needed in this universe.
Unfortunately, mentioning it doesn't fix it. It's nice to know that Whosoever thought "Hey, Spike never actually became a better person after getting a soul" can feel validated by this episode, but it really only serves to highlight the flaws and confusion.
Speaking of highlights, I really love Harm. I really, really do. Such wisdom and pith.
I liked this episode, but I am still undecided on what I think of this plot-line. So this review is crappy and disjointed. I have no real opinions. Except on this one point: To me, it was absolutely 100% obvious that Angel was sending Lawyer With The Yellow Tie to his death. "Hey, go tell an extremely evil person some bad news" equals death. Angel should know this. I knew this. Anyone who has ever watched this show before should know this. Why did everyone seem so surprised when he wound up as dead as he so logically would have?
I suppose that everyone who's worried about how they're going to handle this whole "running a law firm" plot should be grateful for Spike. And I suppose everyone who's worried about how they're going to handle this whole "Spike" plot-line should be glad for the crappy lawyer story. Because the writers will now split their attention between them, and never fully explore either. Why that should make anyone happy, I don't know. Variety, I guess.
It's nice that Spike still feels like Buffy's his property. You keep holding on to that dream, Spike. You'll fuck her into submission someday.
[End Spoiler]
I have no BUST!
This is not true in some senses. I mean, I have a bust in the dress sense. It's rather ample. I also have busts of Beethoven and Nefertiti in my computer room. (Shut up!) I do not, however, have Butt Ugly Spoiler Tags. I have pretty spoiler tags. Therefore, in the non-existant game of "My spoiler tags vs. Pat's spoiler tags," I win. And now,
SHOW!!
[Begin Spoiler for Angel 5.1, "Convictions" — Highlight to view]
Wow. Parts of that were actually funny.
Wow. I like Angel's new hair.
Wow. That girl that plays Eve is the worst, most miscast actress I have ever seen. I mean. .... sigh. If I plan to review every episode, I should save the ranting. I'm sure I'll have many opportunities to expound in the coming weeks.
I see Joss Whedon hasn't lost his keen ability to bludgeon the audience with exposition.
"I have no problem spanking men" : the sentence that will launch a billion slashfics.
Also, I like Harmony. No, I did not get boy-brainwashed. She's cute.
You know, between the "George Sr." comment and the Dixie Chicks poster, I'd say that Joss isn't voting Repulican in '04.
Enough of blow by blow. I liked it. It was a bit shaky at first, either because it's the first new episode I've seen in a while, or it's the first new episode Whedon has seen in a while. Either way. I'm still not sure how I feel about this whole law firm scenario. It needs to be done extremely well in order to work, and I no longer have that kind of faith in Joss & Co. So far, in this first episode, though, it is of the good. Gunn being secretive and ambiguously evil is good. Man getting head blown off by shotgun is good. (I am a strange girl.) Bioterrorism, not so good, but at least there weren't any glaring errors. ME should be reminded that this is not a sci-fi show. However, I did enjoy Fred yelling at her labmates. (I would also like to point out that Fred's being a physicist still doesn't make her an expert in all areas of science.)
From this episode, I could envision a full and interesting season (as long as Eve is killed immediately) with darkness, humor, and ample screen development for the remaining characters.
Of course, this episode is not the acid test of this season, because this episode did not have Spike in it. Except, of course, for the "surprise" "dramatic" ending. In which James Marsters managed to ham up his three seconds of screen time: very impressive. Having actually watched the season finale of Buffy, I am keenly aware that there is absolutely no logically way for the amulet to arrive to Angel in a sealed envelope, and contain Spike. Because I can't even make that not sound stupid. I wonder which god will descend from which machine to "explain" all this wackiness.
I really don't want to be pessimistic, but this episode was a great setup for a season of a show that I would be interested in watching, but in the last five seconds, it was already usurped and contaminated by a set of rapidly aging cheekbones. You know what? I'm done with Spike. I was happy that he died, because I had finished caring about his character. I was happy that his arc had been resolved and set aside. I can't find that caring anymore, especially not when I know that it's going to come at the expense of the characters that I am still interested in.
End review.
[End Spoiler]
SHOW!!
[Begin Spoiler for Angel 5.1, "Convictions" — Highlight to view]
Wow. Parts of that were actually funny.
Wow. I like Angel's new hair.
Wow. That girl that plays Eve is the worst, most miscast actress I have ever seen. I mean. .... sigh. If I plan to review every episode, I should save the ranting. I'm sure I'll have many opportunities to expound in the coming weeks.
I see Joss Whedon hasn't lost his keen ability to bludgeon the audience with exposition.
"I have no problem spanking men" : the sentence that will launch a billion slashfics.
Also, I like Harmony. No, I did not get boy-brainwashed. She's cute.
You know, between the "George Sr." comment and the Dixie Chicks poster, I'd say that Joss isn't voting Repulican in '04.
Enough of blow by blow. I liked it. It was a bit shaky at first, either because it's the first new episode I've seen in a while, or it's the first new episode Whedon has seen in a while. Either way. I'm still not sure how I feel about this whole law firm scenario. It needs to be done extremely well in order to work, and I no longer have that kind of faith in Joss & Co. So far, in this first episode, though, it is of the good. Gunn being secretive and ambiguously evil is good. Man getting head blown off by shotgun is good. (I am a strange girl.) Bioterrorism, not so good, but at least there weren't any glaring errors. ME should be reminded that this is not a sci-fi show. However, I did enjoy Fred yelling at her labmates. (I would also like to point out that Fred's being a physicist still doesn't make her an expert in all areas of science.)
From this episode, I could envision a full and interesting season (as long as Eve is killed immediately) with darkness, humor, and ample screen development for the remaining characters.
Of course, this episode is not the acid test of this season, because this episode did not have Spike in it. Except, of course, for the "surprise" "dramatic" ending. In which James Marsters managed to ham up his three seconds of screen time: very impressive. Having actually watched the season finale of Buffy, I am keenly aware that there is absolutely no logically way for the amulet to arrive to Angel in a sealed envelope, and contain Spike. Because I can't even make that not sound stupid. I wonder which god will descend from which machine to "explain" all this wackiness.
I really don't want to be pessimistic, but this episode was a great setup for a season of a show that I would be interested in watching, but in the last five seconds, it was already usurped and contaminated by a set of rapidly aging cheekbones. You know what? I'm done with Spike. I was happy that he died, because I had finished caring about his character. I was happy that his arc had been resolved and set aside. I can't find that caring anymore, especially not when I know that it's going to come at the expense of the characters that I am still interested in.
End review.
[End Spoiler]
Monday
I don't feel well.
But that's not because anything bad happened.
I had a very stressful weekend.
But that's not because anything bad happened. I can't tell if it's all the stress that's making me unwell, or if I'm actually sick now.
My weekend actually went very well. Better than I expected it to. And for those who feel they require a more in-depth account, I must apologize. I'm all distracted by my mystery illness. Which may or may or be due to stress. But I feel better than I have in quite some time.
You know, except for the feeling like crap part.
I had a very stressful weekend.
But that's not because anything bad happened. I can't tell if it's all the stress that's making me unwell, or if I'm actually sick now.
My weekend actually went very well. Better than I expected it to. And for those who feel they require a more in-depth account, I must apologize. I'm all distracted by my mystery illness. Which may or may or be due to stress. But I feel better than I have in quite some time.
You know, except for the feeling like crap part.
Thursday
And now ... the panic.
ohgodohgodohgod.
I saw Adaptation , last night (or the night before? Anyway - finally), and Superherp Girl will be greatly displeased to learn that I enjoyed it a great deal. What I could make out of it, anyway. This is good, for because of all the commercials I've seen for it, I now mentally associate it with the song "Under Pressure". And that's a song that I like. So I am glad that it is not connected to a movie I dislike. Also, it was extremely amusing to me because Robert McKee's Story is actually the text for my script analysis class. Hee!
ohholyfuckshitjesuslordchristsweetmotherofholyfuckingcrap.
Anyway, the "making out of it" comment comes from the fact that it was shown on the Rutgers movie channel at 12 AM. And Shereen wanted to sleep. This is a first. Anyway, I was trying to keep the volume low, and my tv sucks, so I spent most of the film pressing the volume controls more or less consistently. I had been waiting a very long time to watch the movie, yet I lessened my experience of it to better convience someone else. I'm a fucking fabulous person, I'll tell you that right now.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!
Anyway, I was going to make an entry about being upset, but the next day, Shereen and I spoke with each other, and no one was upset at all, she had been tossing around because the room was hot (dubious claim, but I accept it).
I made a CD of all the songs I've been listening to in recent months. Well, not all the songs, just the artists, with samplings of their folios.
I am utterly fine except for when the giddy, suffocating panic comes in in a wave.
I paid twenty-five dollars for a shirt that has fringy hems. On purpose.
Even though no one (or maybe one one) knows what I'm talking about, could you wish me luck? And an absence of vomit? When I get excessively nervous, I feel like I may throw up. I am nervous.
Google says that my related searches are "lies" and "tomorrow". Well. There ya go.
I saw Adaptation , last night (or the night before? Anyway - finally), and Superherp Girl will be greatly displeased to learn that I enjoyed it a great deal. What I could make out of it, anyway. This is good, for because of all the commercials I've seen for it, I now mentally associate it with the song "Under Pressure". And that's a song that I like. So I am glad that it is not connected to a movie I dislike. Also, it was extremely amusing to me because Robert McKee's Story is actually the text for my script analysis class. Hee!
ohholyfuckshitjesuslordchristsweetmotherofholyfuckingcrap.
Anyway, the "making out of it" comment comes from the fact that it was shown on the Rutgers movie channel at 12 AM. And Shereen wanted to sleep. This is a first. Anyway, I was trying to keep the volume low, and my tv sucks, so I spent most of the film pressing the volume controls more or less consistently. I had been waiting a very long time to watch the movie, yet I lessened my experience of it to better convience someone else. I'm a fucking fabulous person, I'll tell you that right now.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!
Anyway, I was going to make an entry about being upset, but the next day, Shereen and I spoke with each other, and no one was upset at all, she had been tossing around because the room was hot (dubious claim, but I accept it).
I made a CD of all the songs I've been listening to in recent months. Well, not all the songs, just the artists, with samplings of their folios.
I am utterly fine except for when the giddy, suffocating panic comes in in a wave.
I paid twenty-five dollars for a shirt that has fringy hems. On purpose.
Even though no one (or maybe one one) knows what I'm talking about, could you wish me luck? And an absence of vomit? When I get excessively nervous, I feel like I may throw up. I am nervous.
Google says that my related searches are "lies" and "tomorrow". Well. There ya go.
Saturday
I don't want to talk about it, really.
Talking about my issues and eccentricities is fun! Hopefully it's not dispelling the air of mystery that I've unconsciously constructed for myself. I don't think it does. Because if there's anything that I've learned in reviewing my journal entries, it is this: I am a strange girl.
I have a quirk of interpersonal interaction. It's a thing that I try that never works, and yet I somehow always seem to think it may. It is this: When in conversation, I often drop hints or make comments about things that I do not want to talk about.
Now, naturally, the most logical thing to think is that I do really want to talk about it, right? It's basic psychology. "I don't want to talk about it" = "Drag this out of me, because I really do want to talk about it, but I want attention first".
But, no. I honestly bring up things that I honestly do not want to talk about. Sometimes, it's a legitimate slip. I shouldn'na told you that. [/Hagrid] After these instances, I kick myself mentally and call myself a doofus. But on other occasions, I'm at least semi-aware of what I'm doing. I can't say I've ever made a completely conscious effort to mention things I don't want to talk about, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Why do I do this? The reason, actually, is simple enough. I don't expect a reply. This may sound completely stupid, but it is, in fact, what I assume will occur. I will drop Hint X, and my partner in conversation will let it go, and continue with the conversation.
I blame movies, I think. This happens all the time in movies, but it never happens in real-life. Someone makes a comment, and it's foreshadowing. It slips by the person that they're talking to, only to become relevant later when the importance of the comment is highlighted. Or else, the comment produces an internal reaction in the person they're talking to. "What does that mean?" the person wonders. "Could she possibley mean X?" But of course, the person will not ask, they will simply think about the prospects, mulling it over at a later point in time.
And this, essentially, is what I expect. Sometimes I'd like the person I'm talking to to think about X. So I will drop a hint about X. But I do not want to talk about X, and I do not want them to ask me about X. The reason I expect this, besides the movie precedent, I believe, is that this is what I often do. If someone makes an off-hand comment, I will often ponder what they meant by it, and come up with several nuanced possibilities. The extent to which my rampant paranoia affects my interpretations is inconsistent. I won't ask about it, though. I will simply let the questions drive me crazy in silence. Well, depending on what the possible meanings are. Sometimes I will ask.
I've never been sure if this happens to other people. The silent pondering. But sometimes I want them to ponder silently. So I try to set it up so that they do. But it never works. I am invariably asked what I mean, or to elaborate. The point, in some way or another will become highlighted. And at that point I need to either sigh and say "Nothing." or else explain what I meant. Neither is a particularly attractive option.
Conflict occurs where subjective expectations meet objective reality.
In other news, I would really like to review Slaughterhouse 5 . Unfortunately, 90% of people are profoundly stupid. QED.
I have a quirk of interpersonal interaction. It's a thing that I try that never works, and yet I somehow always seem to think it may. It is this: When in conversation, I often drop hints or make comments about things that I do not want to talk about.
Now, naturally, the most logical thing to think is that I do really want to talk about it, right? It's basic psychology. "I don't want to talk about it" = "Drag this out of me, because I really do want to talk about it, but I want attention first".
But, no. I honestly bring up things that I honestly do not want to talk about. Sometimes, it's a legitimate slip. I shouldn'na told you that. [/Hagrid] After these instances, I kick myself mentally and call myself a doofus. But on other occasions, I'm at least semi-aware of what I'm doing. I can't say I've ever made a completely conscious effort to mention things I don't want to talk about, but it wouldn't surprise me.
Why do I do this? The reason, actually, is simple enough. I don't expect a reply. This may sound completely stupid, but it is, in fact, what I assume will occur. I will drop Hint X, and my partner in conversation will let it go, and continue with the conversation.
I blame movies, I think. This happens all the time in movies, but it never happens in real-life. Someone makes a comment, and it's foreshadowing. It slips by the person that they're talking to, only to become relevant later when the importance of the comment is highlighted. Or else, the comment produces an internal reaction in the person they're talking to. "What does that mean?" the person wonders. "Could she possibley mean X?" But of course, the person will not ask, they will simply think about the prospects, mulling it over at a later point in time.
And this, essentially, is what I expect. Sometimes I'd like the person I'm talking to to think about X. So I will drop a hint about X. But I do not want to talk about X, and I do not want them to ask me about X. The reason I expect this, besides the movie precedent, I believe, is that this is what I often do. If someone makes an off-hand comment, I will often ponder what they meant by it, and come up with several nuanced possibilities. The extent to which my rampant paranoia affects my interpretations is inconsistent. I won't ask about it, though. I will simply let the questions drive me crazy in silence. Well, depending on what the possible meanings are. Sometimes I will ask.
I've never been sure if this happens to other people. The silent pondering. But sometimes I want them to ponder silently. So I try to set it up so that they do. But it never works. I am invariably asked what I mean, or to elaborate. The point, in some way or another will become highlighted. And at that point I need to either sigh and say "Nothing." or else explain what I meant. Neither is a particularly attractive option.
Conflict occurs where subjective expectations meet objective reality.
In other news, I would really like to review Slaughterhouse 5 . Unfortunately, 90% of people are profoundly stupid. QED.
Tuesday
It's like I don't even exist today.
I'm not sure what I mean by that, but there ya go. The horrible people who seem to be everywhere just seem like they're reacting to me as if I don't exist. Like, if they are directly in my path, obstructing my course, they do not move out of the way. As I push past them, they just look vaguely at me and say nothing and don't even look concerned. This happened on the bus this morning, I said "Excuse me" three times, but the chap in question just stood there. As he was quite tall, and I am the opposite, I walked under his arm. I don't even think he knew I was there.
Then the other problem - people have been looking at me all day. No, I don't really know how I can think everyone is looking at me and oblivious to my existance at the same time, but there ya go. Sometimes, I will say that I've been getting looks from people, and it's a somewhat positive thing. They are looking at me because I'm so pretty, naturally. And then there are days like today, where it feels like everyone is staring at me, but it's bad. I don't know why. What the hell are they looking at? Is there something wrong with me, in their view?
I don't know how much of this is a product of my mind. Are people really looking at me, or do I just think they are? And if they are, are there really difference in the looks? Are they really looking at me because I'm pretty one day, and with obscure judgement the next? Or is this just a reflection of what my personal opinion happens to be that day? I will admit that I am not in the best of humors this days. However, I also think I look quite cute. So what the dill pickles??
I am not having a good day besides. My head feels like it's filled with cotton in that way that it sometimes does. Tomorrow I have to go get a present and a card for my Auntie Pat's birthday, and I need to worry about whether or not I'm going to be hit with the storm before I can get home.
And besides that, I have to stave off what could be a possible personal crisis. Brought on by thinking. Thinking, many times, can completely ruin me for weeks at a time. I try to do it as little as humanly possible, but sometimes it is simply unavoidable.
In other news today, I did something so Superhero Girl today. I hung out in the library, away from all the people, and read A Streetcar Named Desire (which did not help my mood or thinking one bit) in front of the "E" biographies. Man, this school has a crush on Emerson.
Then the other problem - people have been looking at me all day. No, I don't really know how I can think everyone is looking at me and oblivious to my existance at the same time, but there ya go. Sometimes, I will say that I've been getting looks from people, and it's a somewhat positive thing. They are looking at me because I'm so pretty, naturally. And then there are days like today, where it feels like everyone is staring at me, but it's bad. I don't know why. What the hell are they looking at? Is there something wrong with me, in their view?
I don't know how much of this is a product of my mind. Are people really looking at me, or do I just think they are? And if they are, are there really difference in the looks? Are they really looking at me because I'm pretty one day, and with obscure judgement the next? Or is this just a reflection of what my personal opinion happens to be that day? I will admit that I am not in the best of humors this days. However, I also think I look quite cute. So what the dill pickles??
I am not having a good day besides. My head feels like it's filled with cotton in that way that it sometimes does. Tomorrow I have to go get a present and a card for my Auntie Pat's birthday, and I need to worry about whether or not I'm going to be hit with the storm before I can get home.
And besides that, I have to stave off what could be a possible personal crisis. Brought on by thinking. Thinking, many times, can completely ruin me for weeks at a time. I try to do it as little as humanly possible, but sometimes it is simply unavoidable.
In other news today, I did something so Superhero Girl today. I hung out in the library, away from all the people, and read A Streetcar Named Desire (which did not help my mood or thinking one bit) in front of the "E" biographies. Man, this school has a crush on Emerson.
Monday
It's just the tiniest bit wet out.
HOLY FUCK!
No, seriously, it's not that bad. I mean, it's not like I walked through water that came up my knees or anything.
THAT LAST SENTENCE WAS A LIE!!
I should have more emails than I do.
No, seriously, it's not that bad. I mean, it's not like I walked through water that came up my knees or anything.
THAT LAST SENTENCE WAS A LIE!!
I should have more emails than I do.
Friday
"Hey, Guess Who's Dead!" will not be played today.
There are too many correct answers.
Instead, let's play: "Whose Death Is Upsetting Me the Most?"
Right now, Johnny Cash is leading at a decent margin.
Instead, let's play: "Whose Death Is Upsetting Me the Most?"
Right now, Johnny Cash is leading at a decent margin.
Tuesday
Everything is for Christians? Everything is free?
Dude! That is the lyingest ad ever!
Is this because I frequently pepper my speech with the phrase "Jesus Christ!"?
Is this because I frequently pepper my speech with the phrase "Jesus Christ!"?
Fuck You, Rutgers!!
No, seriously. Rutgers, if you are reading this, fuck you. In all of your various despicable orifices.
For the benefit of everyone else: they seem to have caught on to my clever email ruse. The reason that they are deliberately not letting me access my AOL mail is because they are stupid and suck and need to be kicked squarely in the nads.
That didn't really explain anything, did it?
Fuck you Rutgers.
For the benefit of everyone else: they seem to have caught on to my clever email ruse. The reason that they are deliberately not letting me access my AOL mail is because they are stupid and suck and need to be kicked squarely in the nads.
That didn't really explain anything, did it?
Fuck you Rutgers.
Thursday
The continuing saga of my insomnia.
... Does it count as a continuing saga if I haven't really mentioned it yet? Anyway, I have been having a great unpleasant deal of insomnia lately. There's just no sleep to be had. I set my alarm for 7:45 this morning, so that I could be cleanly showered in time for my 9:50 class. A bit excessive. At around 3, I was impatiently waiting for my alarm to go off, or for it to start getting light so that I could turn on the computer without any distracting brightness contrasts.
So, what do I do when I'm lying in bed, flipping over for the millionth time and arranging my limbs in odd positions in the hopes of increasing blood flow and providing entertaining distraction? Why, I think about stuff, of course! And may I say, most of it is damn brilliant. Of course, I am never in the frame of mind or physical mode to commit any of these thoughts to writing, which sucks because the thoughts relate directly to things that I'd like to write about.
So, here is one of the things I was thinking about last night, recalled to memory by Steph's latest entry. I have been wondering, at least since last night, when I will stop thinking of people as "kids". Because I do. Most of the people I know, I would label "kids". I'm not sure where that ends. I consider people younger than me to be kids. I consider people my own age to be kids. While I don't think about it that often, I suppose I consider myself to be a kid. This is where I start confusing myself. Most of my friends are "kids". I've been wondering why I am so tentative about bestowing "adult" status to the people I know, and where exactly I draw the line. For example, Beth, you are a kid. 1978 babies, you are kids (though some of you more so than others). I'd probably say that I think of Annika as a kid, but not Will. Because Will has a beard. Kirk is not a kid, but only because he's just so damn old.
Pat and Steph I would call kids, except they have the hitch of having created life, twice over. So, I suppose they get some sort of free pass into adulthood. Enjoy it, moochers.
I have been considering that as I age, my upper threshold for "kid" keeps increasing. I wonder of this will continue indefinitely. Will I still refer to my peers as "kids" when I'm fifty? And if so, then who's an adult? Will it come down to hair again, as most of my opinions seem to? Will gray hair = adulthood? A bit of a strange concept, considering that a portion of my own hair is currently gray. Am I unconsciously evaluating what I perceive to be maturity in my friends? As mentioned before, there are some people I know who are the same age, yet I feel more comfortable calling one a "kid" than another. Is it about levels of familiarity? Will Beth never be an adult in my mind, simply by virtue of the fact that she is my best friend?
In a related note, if I don't locate Never Never Land within the next 91 days, I will never be allowed in.
So, what do I do when I'm lying in bed, flipping over for the millionth time and arranging my limbs in odd positions in the hopes of increasing blood flow and providing entertaining distraction? Why, I think about stuff, of course! And may I say, most of it is damn brilliant. Of course, I am never in the frame of mind or physical mode to commit any of these thoughts to writing, which sucks because the thoughts relate directly to things that I'd like to write about.
So, here is one of the things I was thinking about last night, recalled to memory by Steph's latest entry. I have been wondering, at least since last night, when I will stop thinking of people as "kids". Because I do. Most of the people I know, I would label "kids". I'm not sure where that ends. I consider people younger than me to be kids. I consider people my own age to be kids. While I don't think about it that often, I suppose I consider myself to be a kid. This is where I start confusing myself. Most of my friends are "kids". I've been wondering why I am so tentative about bestowing "adult" status to the people I know, and where exactly I draw the line. For example, Beth, you are a kid. 1978 babies, you are kids (though some of you more so than others). I'd probably say that I think of Annika as a kid, but not Will. Because Will has a beard. Kirk is not a kid, but only because he's just so damn old.
Pat and Steph I would call kids, except they have the hitch of having created life, twice over. So, I suppose they get some sort of free pass into adulthood. Enjoy it, moochers.
I have been considering that as I age, my upper threshold for "kid" keeps increasing. I wonder of this will continue indefinitely. Will I still refer to my peers as "kids" when I'm fifty? And if so, then who's an adult? Will it come down to hair again, as most of my opinions seem to? Will gray hair = adulthood? A bit of a strange concept, considering that a portion of my own hair is currently gray. Am I unconsciously evaluating what I perceive to be maturity in my friends? As mentioned before, there are some people I know who are the same age, yet I feel more comfortable calling one a "kid" than another. Is it about levels of familiarity? Will Beth never be an adult in my mind, simply by virtue of the fact that she is my best friend?
In a related note, if I don't locate Never Never Land within the next 91 days, I will never be allowed in.
Monday
Make Your Bed The River, Young Girl.
So my email is not working. Everything else is in functional order (well, except my printer, which could be problematic later. Bah.) but not that, for some reason. I feel like I'm missing something. And, of course, I am. And I also have no AOL IMing, so there is no PatnSteph to talk to. 
Hopefully I will not feel so ... something tomorrow, because I will go to class and do things.
I feel all ... something. Someone entertain me, please. I am all lonesome.
Hopefully I will not feel so ... something tomorrow, because I will go to class and do things.
I feel all ... something. Someone entertain me, please. I am all lonesome.
Wednesday
What is pop again? And why don't I like it?
No, really. What is "pop" by definition? I had been laboring under the impression that it was short for "popular". Popular music. The problem lies in the music that I've been listening to lately. The File Info tells me that it's pop. Only, nothing I listen to is popular. This music is not popular! You have no idea who these people are! There's also my notion that "pop" sucks. And if I take it to mean "popular music" then I am correct. Because whatever the kids are listening to today is complete crap.
Which leads me down another road. I blame the internet, but I've been developing a passion for completely obscure musical artists. I maintain my stance that I like any music, as long as it's good. But I'm developing this subset of interest of music that, while good, no one has ever heard of. Seriously, if you have good music that no one knows about, I would love to be the first purchaser of your album that no one has ever bought.
I hope none of these bands become popular. I don't know how I'd feel about that. Of course, given the current state of popular music, I doubt that I need fear anything. I went to the mall yesterday (Hi Pat!) because I needed to buy shoes (Hi Beth!). It sucked so hard. I can't even try for eloquence in my description of how much the mall sucks. Horrible, gross little teenagers everywhere. Everything was unpleasant. Especially the crappy music that seem to be played everywhere. It occurred to me as I was waiting for my meal in the Ruby Tuesday's that I could not recognize a single song that had been played. Um... go team Amy? Seriously, I'm kind of glad, because there's nothing I heard that I would like to hear again. I hope I didn't hear any Evanescence [/deliberate lack of concern for spelling] because I've decided that it's a life goal of my to never ever hear any song they have. So far, so good.
I was so happy to go home, scrounge for hours on Kazaa for a single song, and then listen to it on my headphones, away from all the unpleasant sounds of popular tunes.
Oh, also, Pat: "There is a problem with the backBlog server. Please be patient and come visit us again later."
Which leads me down another road. I blame the internet, but I've been developing a passion for completely obscure musical artists. I maintain my stance that I like any music, as long as it's good. But I'm developing this subset of interest of music that, while good, no one has ever heard of. Seriously, if you have good music that no one knows about, I would love to be the first purchaser of your album that no one has ever bought.
I hope none of these bands become popular. I don't know how I'd feel about that. Of course, given the current state of popular music, I doubt that I need fear anything. I went to the mall yesterday (Hi Pat!) because I needed to buy shoes (Hi Beth!). It sucked so hard. I can't even try for eloquence in my description of how much the mall sucks. Horrible, gross little teenagers everywhere. Everything was unpleasant. Especially the crappy music that seem to be played everywhere. It occurred to me as I was waiting for my meal in the Ruby Tuesday's that I could not recognize a single song that had been played. Um... go team Amy? Seriously, I'm kind of glad, because there's nothing I heard that I would like to hear again. I hope I didn't hear any Evanescence [/deliberate lack of concern for spelling] because I've decided that it's a life goal of my to never ever hear any song they have. So far, so good.
I was so happy to go home, scrounge for hours on Kazaa for a single song, and then listen to it on my headphones, away from all the unpleasant sounds of popular tunes.
Oh, also, Pat: "There is a problem with the backBlog server. Please be patient and come visit us again later."
Sunday
Oh, kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.
Have you ever enjoyed something that you didn't feel you should be enjoying? I'm not talking about dirty things, you pervs!
Or am I? [eyebrow]
No. I am not. Anyway. It's a very odd feeling. "This shouldn't make me happy." And yet ... there ya go.
Coincidentally, when I started this entry, it was my intent to be forthcoming and non-cryptic. It's like I don't even know how to do that anymore. In somewhat related news, I've been feeling this very strong urge to post lately. I hope it passes, as it requires lots of effort to think about.
Or am I? [eyebrow]
No. I am not. Anyway. It's a very odd feeling. "This shouldn't make me happy." And yet ... there ya go.
Coincidentally, when I started this entry, it was my intent to be forthcoming and non-cryptic. It's like I don't even know how to do that anymore. In somewhat related news, I've been feeling this very strong urge to post lately. I hope it passes, as it requires lots of effort to think about.
Wednesday
Tuesday
Not to cause a mild panic or anything...
I am happy.
Um... my teeth still hurt, though, so you can still pity me. I mean, my lunch today was milk. MILK.
Um... my teeth still hurt, though, so you can still pity me. I mean, my lunch today was milk. MILK.
Friday
-------> 
Wednesday
The Tyranny of Distance, Pt. 2
I've decided that even though I am absolutely fabulous and locating new and good music, that this is a very frustrating enterprise. Case in point, my new buddy Ted Leo. Teddy, I can only understand half of what you say. And every review of your album says that the lyrics of your songs are the best part. And since no one knows who the heck you are, I can't find the lyrics online. This might actually force me into (shuddergasp!) buying music. And now what's that about? Also, songs that are good, as a rule, need to be longer. I used to call this the "Tangerine" principle, until I realized that Tangerine actually runs over four minutes. What I mean to say is, they should have more verses.
This entry of me talking to my imaginary friend has been brought to you by:
You Could Die (Or This Might End)
Working it out again
And you're
Dreaming it out again
About you
Giving your all again
Until you
Feel like you could die or this might end
End
Taking it all again
And you're
Giving your all again
Until you
Run yourself dry again
And you
Feel like you could die or this might end
End
End
This entry of me talking to my imaginary friend has been brought to you by:
You Could Die (Or This Might End)
Working it out again
And you're
Dreaming it out again
About you
Giving your all again
Until you
Feel like you could die or this might end
End
Taking it all again
And you're
Giving your all again
Until you
Run yourself dry again
And you
Feel like you could die or this might end
End
End
Sunday
Saturday
The Tyranny of Distance
Me and Johnny sitting in the green grass
I don't remember too much from the far back in the past
But man oh man was Jonathan a laugh in those days
Apparently he was my very best friend
We spent warm summer days wishing they would never end
But I only know from photographs I look at
Every now and again
J-Johnny
Ooh all he left us was an apple tree
And ooh why'd he go and ooh why'd he leave?
And ooh why do I grieve?
Now I don't ever see Jonathan no more
But my life flows on just like it did before
And I only wonder what it is that I even miss him for
That's from a song by Ted Leo/Pharmacists. It's called "Timorous Me". I figured that I should write something in here, but I have nothing to say. This sounded like a decent enough substitute.
I don't remember too much from the far back in the past
But man oh man was Jonathan a laugh in those days
Apparently he was my very best friend
We spent warm summer days wishing they would never end
But I only know from photographs I look at
Every now and again
J-Johnny
Ooh all he left us was an apple tree
And ooh why'd he go and ooh why'd he leave?
And ooh why do I grieve?
Now I don't ever see Jonathan no more
But my life flows on just like it did before
And I only wonder what it is that I even miss him for
That's from a song by Ted Leo/Pharmacists. It's called "Timorous Me". I figured that I should write something in here, but I have nothing to say. This sounded like a decent enough substitute.
Tuesday
Thursday
I'm so sorry, Stephanie.
I lied.
So, there's this guy I know. We'll call him.... "Kirk". ...Because I'm talking about Kirk. He recently moved up in my estimation to "The Best Person Ever". He should enjoy this while it lasts, for I am exceedingly fickle with titles such as these. You will understand my Potter-delay once I explain.
Robert Plant. Hylobates lars . Volumes of hair. The phrase "Robert Plant complains about his woman's nocturnal demands. Again." as a song description. And.... a whole bunch of other stuff.
Also, so wait a minute. Dude. When Robert Plant yells "STRIDER!" at the end of whatever song he does that on.... it's a shout out..... to his dog ? Robert Plant, you're a bit messed up. You're more obsessed with Tolkien than Lauren is.
Also, I think the band may have three other members in it, or something.
In conclusion: Robert Plant? Foxy man.
So, there's this guy I know. We'll call him.... "Kirk". ...Because I'm talking about Kirk. He recently moved up in my estimation to "The Best Person Ever". He should enjoy this while it lasts, for I am exceedingly fickle with titles such as these. You will understand my Potter-delay once I explain.
Robert Plant. Hylobates lars . Volumes of hair. The phrase "Robert Plant complains about his woman's nocturnal demands. Again." as a song description. And.... a whole bunch of other stuff.
Also, so wait a minute. Dude. When Robert Plant yells "STRIDER!" at the end of whatever song he does that on.... it's a shout out..... to his dog ? Robert Plant, you're a bit messed up. You're more obsessed with Tolkien than Lauren is.
Also, I think the band may have three other members in it, or something.
In conclusion: Robert Plant? Foxy man.
Monday
The next post will be about Harry Potter.
Don't hold me to that. Some time of mine has been freed up. Only, not really. I still have to do things that I neglected to do before. But my immediate work has been lessened, thus given me a keen procrastination opportunity. It seems that some of the slower children in my class were complaining about the workload, and thus, Professor Jon (or, "Pushover Jon" as I will now call him for the duration of this sentence) cut out two [things we have to write about plays] and cut a whole bunch of play from our reading lists. And yet, he spent two whole days talking about the Germans. And on one of these days, he wore a shirt that made me want to punch him. Sigh. I am learning nothing of value and being lead to distraction by wordly concerns.
In other news, a train derailed today. Oh, no one cry, there were no fatalities. Which is unfortunate, because I was an hour and a half late to class because of it. If someone had died, I'm sure my excuse would have been more valid. I hope the train stops sucking, so that I don't have to worry about Buttgers's attendance policies biting me directly in the ass.
So, with all this bidness going on, I have decided to write about the Harry Potter. It will not be today, and it may not be tomorrow, but by gum it'll be better than doing stuff.
In other news, a train derailed today. Oh, no one cry, there were no fatalities. Which is unfortunate, because I was an hour and a half late to class because of it. If someone had died, I'm sure my excuse would have been more valid. I hope the train stops sucking, so that I don't have to worry about Buttgers's attendance policies biting me directly in the ass.
So, with all this bidness going on, I have decided to write about the Harry Potter. It will not be today, and it may not be tomorrow, but by gum it'll be better than doing stuff.
Saturday
Something neutral.
That title has nothing to do with anything. I love the Queen Helene Mint Julep face mask. It is so excellent. My skin is now detritus free and clean. Of course, I also smell vaguely of sulfur, as this is one of its purifying ingredients. Ach, well. It's not like I was going to be near people, anyway.
I must say that, as an Italian-American, I am completely fine with The Sopranos , The Godfather , and a whole bunch of other things that are supposedly detrimentally to how my beautiful culture is viewed by the rest of America. They shoot people and are thus cool. C'est la vie. On the other hand, I am deeply offended by Olive Garden commercials. We are not all loving and embracing of everyone. Some of us want you to go fuck yourselves.
Further proof that we live in a sick world.
This entry is not about Harry Potter.
I must say that, as an Italian-American, I am completely fine with The Sopranos , The Godfather , and a whole bunch of other things that are supposedly detrimentally to how my beautiful culture is viewed by the rest of America. They shoot people and are thus cool. C'est la vie. On the other hand, I am deeply offended by Olive Garden commercials. We are not all loving and embracing of everyone. Some of us want you to go fuck yourselves.
Further proof that we live in a sick world.
This entry is not about Harry Potter.
Thursday
This is not about Harry Potter.
I may still get around to that entry. But right now I'd actually like to state some beliefs/feelings/opinions. Hey, almost like this was a journal or something! At the moment, I'm thinking about something other than how depressed I am. Hence, the internet at large gets the benefit of knowing about it. I've been thinking about things recently, and I have come to the decision that I am very strange. I don't understand many people. That is to say, there are things that many people seem to think or believe which strike me as completely foreign, and I can't really comprehend them. And by writing about them right now, I don't expect to be validated or reassured. I do wonder why I feel like such a Martian in what I think. Am I really just that strange/unique/crazy/something? One of these topics is that of love, and it's disreputable counterpart: sex. Now, I'm a metaphor about dyed wool when in comes to being a complete prude, so I'm not talking about well, "any of that business". I'm talking about generally. Conceptually.
I do not understand the desire for sex.
Let me clarify. Yes, physical, blood, desire, sex is good, all that stuff, woo hoo, fine fine. I understand the enjoyment factor and why someone would want to have it. I'm talking about the desire for sex alone. I'm talking about the phrase "I need to get laid." Seemingly, it doesn't matter who it's with, only the act is important. To me, this is so radically repulsive to every fiber of my being that I can't really describe it. And I don't think I mean just "casual sex" either, or the fact that people do that. More to the point
I do not understand the desire for a relationship.
I have never wanted a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or a relationship that I didn't have. Wait, that's not true. I remember several years ago wanting to have a best friend. It seemed that many people had one, yet I did not. I wanted a friend that was like a sister, that I'd be comfortable talking to about anything, conceivably until forever. Then I realized that nearly everyone that I thought had that didn't really. And now, I do. So, HA! Anyway, back to the sex. I don't understand dating. I don't understand wanting a vacant position filled. That's what it is, isn't it? Dating? You hang out with someone you don't know very well because you're interviewing them for the part of "significant other". It strikes me as being... cold, somehow. Unnatural. "I want a boyfriend" sounds to me like "I want a situation. I don't care who the situation is with, I just want to be in it." Then it's just a matter of appraising every person you meet to see how good a candidate they are for the position. The whole thing seems so backwards.
Here's what I do understand: People. The wanting of a certain person. The wanting to do illicit and possibley illegal things to a certain person. Not because you want to do "the thing" but because you want to be with "the person" and the actions proceed from that but are secondary. I understand the building of relationships. That you start out as acquaintances, and become friends. And then amongst the people you've befriended, one emerges as the one you love, who loves you back. Which is sort of up to chance, I guess. And does that mean I think you just sit and wait around for fate? Well, I guess so. Because the alternative is actively seeking out a filler for the gap, which is what I don't understand.
And oddly, I never found waiting to be hard or stressful. Again, because I never desired a relationship. I really didn't think about it. And getting back to the notion of dating, it's like going through the motions of being in love (depending on how one dates from "hanging out exclusively" to "doin' the do") and expecting love to follow. Or sometimes not. It only makes sense to me that the motions should only go on after the love, or at least the beginning of it, is already there. I don't really think of it as at all "magical" and I really don't believe that anything is "cheapened" the other way, I'm just saying that I honestly cannot understand how people do it. I'm logically, emotionally, and in all ways just... baffled by it.
I also believe that true love is very rare to come by twice, let alone any more times. And by "true love" I don't mean "one's true love" as in a person, I mean the emotion, and feeling it for a person. I believe it is impossible to feel true romantic love for more than one person (at a time) and that true romantic love is very difficult to dispel.
Of course, reflecting upon the state of my life, it's very hard to take anything I say very seriously.
I do not understand the desire for sex.
Let me clarify. Yes, physical, blood, desire, sex is good, all that stuff, woo hoo, fine fine. I understand the enjoyment factor and why someone would want to have it. I'm talking about the desire for sex alone. I'm talking about the phrase "I need to get laid." Seemingly, it doesn't matter who it's with, only the act is important. To me, this is so radically repulsive to every fiber of my being that I can't really describe it. And I don't think I mean just "casual sex" either, or the fact that people do that. More to the point
I do not understand the desire for a relationship.
I have never wanted a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or a relationship that I didn't have. Wait, that's not true. I remember several years ago wanting to have a best friend. It seemed that many people had one, yet I did not. I wanted a friend that was like a sister, that I'd be comfortable talking to about anything, conceivably until forever. Then I realized that nearly everyone that I thought had that didn't really. And now, I do. So, HA! Anyway, back to the sex. I don't understand dating. I don't understand wanting a vacant position filled. That's what it is, isn't it? Dating? You hang out with someone you don't know very well because you're interviewing them for the part of "significant other". It strikes me as being... cold, somehow. Unnatural. "I want a boyfriend" sounds to me like "I want a situation. I don't care who the situation is with, I just want to be in it." Then it's just a matter of appraising every person you meet to see how good a candidate they are for the position. The whole thing seems so backwards.
Here's what I do understand: People. The wanting of a certain person. The wanting to do illicit and possibley illegal things to a certain person. Not because you want to do "the thing" but because you want to be with "the person" and the actions proceed from that but are secondary. I understand the building of relationships. That you start out as acquaintances, and become friends. And then amongst the people you've befriended, one emerges as the one you love, who loves you back. Which is sort of up to chance, I guess. And does that mean I think you just sit and wait around for fate? Well, I guess so. Because the alternative is actively seeking out a filler for the gap, which is what I don't understand.
And oddly, I never found waiting to be hard or stressful. Again, because I never desired a relationship. I really didn't think about it. And getting back to the notion of dating, it's like going through the motions of being in love (depending on how one dates from "hanging out exclusively" to "doin' the do") and expecting love to follow. Or sometimes not. It only makes sense to me that the motions should only go on after the love, or at least the beginning of it, is already there. I don't really think of it as at all "magical" and I really don't believe that anything is "cheapened" the other way, I'm just saying that I honestly cannot understand how people do it. I'm logically, emotionally, and in all ways just... baffled by it.
I also believe that true love is very rare to come by twice, let alone any more times. And by "true love" I don't mean "one's true love" as in a person, I mean the emotion, and feeling it for a person. I believe it is impossible to feel true romantic love for more than one person (at a time) and that true romantic love is very difficult to dispel.
Of course, reflecting upon the state of my life, it's very hard to take anything I say very seriously.
Monday
You know u r from NJ if..............
This is the title of one of those obnoxious chain mails that my cousin sent me today. It's one of those funny regional ones. Of course, it's not so much "funny" as it is "occasionally apt". So, here's some commentary on the information contained therein. Because, in case I've never mentioned this before... I'm from New Jersey.
1. You don't think of fruit when people mention "The Oranges". This is true. Of course, you should further clarify that there are "The Oranges" and then there's West Orange. Where there is a far far less likelihood of your dying by gunfire. Also, a special case should be made for East Orange. If you find yourself there, even if you're not normally religious -- pray to Superman.
2. You know that it's called "Great Adventure" not "Six Flags". This is true. Great Adventure, home of the world's largest drive-through safari (complete with illegally feedable monkeys!), was in existance before selling out to the chain.
3. A good, quick breakfast is a hard roll with butter. Um... this is false. Or else foreign to me. A good quick breakfast is typically a bagel, but that was probably to Philadelphian for the discerning compilers of this list.
4. You've known the way to Seaside Heights since you were seven. True. Though *wanting* to go there is a completely different matter...
5. You've eaten at a diner, when you were stoned or drunk, at 3 a.m. I have never been stoned or drunk, and I have never been to a diner at three a.m. I believe the point of this is to show that lots of various activities revolve around going to diners.
6. You know that the state isn't one big oil refinery. Word.
7. At least three people in your family still love Bruce Springsteen and you know the town Jon Bon Jovi is from. I haven't really polled my family on their opinions of The Boss. They are accepting of him, where as I hate him with a visceral loathing. Much in the vein of Kevin Costner. End of story. Oh, and Perth Amboy. Duh.
8. You know what a "jug handle" is. Yes. It is a perfectly logical and efficient means of navigating treacherous highways. Without them, you would probably die.
9. You know that WaWa is a convenience store. And they've spread south! But all wrong! Wawas don't sell beer!
10. You know that the state isn't all farmland. Um... I don't think we have anyone fooled on that score anymore.
11. You know that there are no "beaches" in New Jersey - there's the shore - and you don't go to the shore, you go "down the Shore". Yes. This is really a crucial thing to know.
12. And when you are there, you are not "at the shore", you are "down the Shore". Again, absolutely essential.
13. You know how to properly negotiate a Circle. Um. I've never tried, but I'm sure I could manage. I've seen it done.
14. You knew that the last sentence had to do with driving. Well, obviously.
15. You know that this is the only "New..." state that doesn't require "New" to identify it (like, try ...Mexico, ...York, ...Hampshire - doesn't work does it?) I really don't think that this is limited to intrastate knowledge.
16. You know that a "White Castle" is the name of BOTH a fast food chain, AND a fast food sandwich. Um. I did not know that, actually. I would assume they sell them at White Castle?
17. You consider putting mayo on a corned beef sandwich a sacrilege. This is true. But, then again, I consider putting mayonaisse on anything a sacrilege. I think mayonaisse is disgusting. As is, incidentally, corned beef. What a confusing statement.
18. You don't think "What exit" is very funny. Oh, come on. It so is. 149, baby!
19. You know that people from the 609 area code are "a little different". And how!
20. You know that no respectable New Jerseyan goes to Princeton - that's for out-of-staters. Oh, I'm sorry. They must have meant "You know the only New Jerseyans who are actually capable of going to Princeton are the children of alumni and staff, who are essentially out-of-staters who come here to soak up the Ivy League slots. Oh, no, really, it's much, much cooler to go to Rutgers, or better yet, TCNJ! [/bitter]
21. The Jets-Giants game has started fights at your local school or bar. Eh. Probably. I doubt I would have noticed, though. I think those are sports teams.
22. You live within 20 minutes of at least three different malls. I most assuredly do. and I'm talking real malls, not those little fake malls.
23. You refer to all highways and interstates by their numbers. Well, the ones I know, I do. Like 1 and 18 and 37. But that doesn't really work with the Parkway and the Turnpike, now does it? This list is so half-assed.
24. Every year you have at least one kid in your class named Tony. No I didn't. In elementary school, there was Anthony. But he went by Ant more than he would Tony. I am proud to say that I went to school with a Gina, though.
25. You know the location of every clip shown in the Sopranos opening credits. Well, not from my own knowledge bank, but I have been told many times over of their locations, yes.
26. You've gotten on the wrong highway trying to get out of the mall. Never trying to get out of a mall. My mother did it while trying to take me to school once.
27. You know that people from North Jersey go to Seaside Heights, and people from Central Jersey go to Belmar and people from South Jersey go to Wildwood. It can be no other way. Pffffffft!! This is ridiculously false. Like I'd ever be excited to go to Sleazeside like a fuckin' Bennie. The place is the den of all the teens of Ocean County. The North Jersey crew is only there Memorial Day weekend. And please, the people in South Jersey are too fucking lazy to go down to Cape May.
28. You weren't raised in New Jersey, you were raised in either North Jersey, Central Jersey or South Jersey. Oh like Central Jersey counts.
29. You don't consider Newark or Camden to actually be part of the state. That's false. We are perfectly cognizant of our crimebeds. We just don't want to admit to them. The same goes for Trenton, actually.
30. You remember the stores Korvette's, Two Guys, Rickel's, Channel, Bamburger's, and Orbach's. Uh, Rickel's, Channel, and Bamburger's, yes. The rest no. Except Two Guys. We still have one of those in my town.
31. You've had a boardwalk cheese steak and vinegar fries. I most certainly have had nothing of the kind. Geeluaaaagh!
32. You start planning For Memorial Day weekend in February. I actually had no clue when Memorial Day was until this very year. Needless to say, this is false.
and finally...
33. You've never, NEVER pumped your own gas. Fuckin'. A.
1. You don't think of fruit when people mention "The Oranges". This is true. Of course, you should further clarify that there are "The Oranges" and then there's West Orange. Where there is a far far less likelihood of your dying by gunfire. Also, a special case should be made for East Orange. If you find yourself there, even if you're not normally religious -- pray to Superman.
2. You know that it's called "Great Adventure" not "Six Flags". This is true. Great Adventure, home of the world's largest drive-through safari (complete with illegally feedable monkeys!), was in existance before selling out to the chain.
3. A good, quick breakfast is a hard roll with butter. Um... this is false. Or else foreign to me. A good quick breakfast is typically a bagel, but that was probably to Philadelphian for the discerning compilers of this list.
4. You've known the way to Seaside Heights since you were seven. True. Though *wanting* to go there is a completely different matter...
5. You've eaten at a diner, when you were stoned or drunk, at 3 a.m. I have never been stoned or drunk, and I have never been to a diner at three a.m. I believe the point of this is to show that lots of various activities revolve around going to diners.
6. You know that the state isn't one big oil refinery. Word.
7. At least three people in your family still love Bruce Springsteen and you know the town Jon Bon Jovi is from. I haven't really polled my family on their opinions of The Boss. They are accepting of him, where as I hate him with a visceral loathing. Much in the vein of Kevin Costner. End of story. Oh, and Perth Amboy. Duh.
8. You know what a "jug handle" is. Yes. It is a perfectly logical and efficient means of navigating treacherous highways. Without them, you would probably die.
9. You know that WaWa is a convenience store. And they've spread south! But all wrong! Wawas don't sell beer!
10. You know that the state isn't all farmland. Um... I don't think we have anyone fooled on that score anymore.
11. You know that there are no "beaches" in New Jersey - there's the shore - and you don't go to the shore, you go "down the Shore". Yes. This is really a crucial thing to know.
12. And when you are there, you are not "at the shore", you are "down the Shore". Again, absolutely essential.
13. You know how to properly negotiate a Circle. Um. I've never tried, but I'm sure I could manage. I've seen it done.
14. You knew that the last sentence had to do with driving. Well, obviously.
15. You know that this is the only "New..." state that doesn't require "New" to identify it (like, try ...Mexico, ...York, ...Hampshire - doesn't work does it?) I really don't think that this is limited to intrastate knowledge.
16. You know that a "White Castle" is the name of BOTH a fast food chain, AND a fast food sandwich. Um. I did not know that, actually. I would assume they sell them at White Castle?
17. You consider putting mayo on a corned beef sandwich a sacrilege. This is true. But, then again, I consider putting mayonaisse on anything a sacrilege. I think mayonaisse is disgusting. As is, incidentally, corned beef. What a confusing statement.
18. You don't think "What exit" is very funny. Oh, come on. It so is. 149, baby!
19. You know that people from the 609 area code are "a little different". And how!
20. You know that no respectable New Jerseyan goes to Princeton - that's for out-of-staters. Oh, I'm sorry. They must have meant "You know the only New Jerseyans who are actually capable of going to Princeton are the children of alumni and staff, who are essentially out-of-staters who come here to soak up the Ivy League slots. Oh, no, really, it's much, much cooler to go to Rutgers, or better yet, TCNJ! [/bitter]
21. The Jets-Giants game has started fights at your local school or bar. Eh. Probably. I doubt I would have noticed, though. I think those are sports teams.
22. You live within 20 minutes of at least three different malls. I most assuredly do. and I'm talking real malls, not those little fake malls.
23. You refer to all highways and interstates by their numbers. Well, the ones I know, I do. Like 1 and 18 and 37. But that doesn't really work with the Parkway and the Turnpike, now does it? This list is so half-assed.
24. Every year you have at least one kid in your class named Tony. No I didn't. In elementary school, there was Anthony. But he went by Ant more than he would Tony. I am proud to say that I went to school with a Gina, though.
25. You know the location of every clip shown in the Sopranos opening credits. Well, not from my own knowledge bank, but I have been told many times over of their locations, yes.
26. You've gotten on the wrong highway trying to get out of the mall. Never trying to get out of a mall. My mother did it while trying to take me to school once.
27. You know that people from North Jersey go to Seaside Heights, and people from Central Jersey go to Belmar and people from South Jersey go to Wildwood. It can be no other way. Pffffffft!! This is ridiculously false. Like I'd ever be excited to go to Sleazeside like a fuckin' Bennie. The place is the den of all the teens of Ocean County. The North Jersey crew is only there Memorial Day weekend. And please, the people in South Jersey are too fucking lazy to go down to Cape May.
28. You weren't raised in New Jersey, you were raised in either North Jersey, Central Jersey or South Jersey. Oh like Central Jersey counts.
29. You don't consider Newark or Camden to actually be part of the state. That's false. We are perfectly cognizant of our crimebeds. We just don't want to admit to them. The same goes for Trenton, actually.
30. You remember the stores Korvette's, Two Guys, Rickel's, Channel, Bamburger's, and Orbach's. Uh, Rickel's, Channel, and Bamburger's, yes. The rest no. Except Two Guys. We still have one of those in my town.
31. You've had a boardwalk cheese steak and vinegar fries. I most certainly have had nothing of the kind. Geeluaaaagh!
32. You start planning For Memorial Day weekend in February. I actually had no clue when Memorial Day was until this very year. Needless to say, this is false.
and finally...
33. You've never, NEVER pumped your own gas. Fuckin'. A.
Sunday
Saturday
"A year ago today..."
Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? I'm probably the only person not feeling down remembering Connecticut. Because, let's face it, I wasn't really up to begin with. I suppose that's a consolation of some sort. In the sense that it completely isn't. I'm taking a break from the internet. Possibley only until I finish dinner, but to my mind, it will be a break.
[title]
So, stuff has been going on the past few days, which included amongst other things: staying awake and alert for more than 48 straight hours, freaking the establishment, installing air conditioners, and fireworks. And probably having a stomach virus. But I've been all tired and crap for updating, so I keep forgetting to write anything down. This instance is no different. So, instead, I will write about one particular incident of yesterday that greatly irritated me.
So, yesterday was the birthday of my nation. My stupid town has stupid fireworks that I had to stupid go to. I knew my mother was going to suggest it, and for once I wasn't violently against leaving the house. I was more quietly resigned to the fact that, it being the 4th, I was going to need to go see fireworks. Well. They were pretty. Beforehand, we went for some food stuffs at the diner. (This being New Jersey, we have many. This was one of my small town's two.) Now, at this diner there is a waitman. He's an aggravating and annoying fuckhead. I first encountered him on mother's day, when myself, my mother, my sister, her best friend Cherilyn, and her adorable moppet Cecelia, whom I adore with all my heart and is five. Cecelia did not like this character. This is very telling. He was flirtatious with my sister and Cherilyn. They were both annoyed. He joined in our conversations. We were all annoyed. He sat down at out table. This was all highly inappropriate. My sister was angry, but contained herself well. He remarked that I was quiet. I thought he could go fuck himself. Briefly, this fellow is a fuckhead. I next saw him there after I went out with my friend Toni and we stopped for food. He listened in, and joined in on our conversation. I was highly annoyed an uncomfortable. I don't want to go to that diner because I think he might be there. He's unprofessional and discourteous, and when I realized that he was there yesterday, I wanted to leave.
So, my mother gives him her order.
I give him my order.
"Wait, what was that?" he says, putting down his order-taking-pad and putting his hand up to his ear.
"Chicken fingers." I say in a completely audible tone.
"Oh, hold on, let me get out the microphone," say he, beginning to pantomime reaching for one.
I smile pleasantly. "I WOULD LIKE. SOME CHICKEN. FINGERS," I say in a tone somewhere between conversational and shouting.
"Okay, chicken fingers," quoth he.
"THANK YOU," says I.
I then avoided looking at or speaking to him for the entirity of my meal. I was quite pleased. My mother told me that what I did was inappropriate. Bullshit it was inappropriate. It was inappropriate that I had to repeat my fucking order to this jackass three times. It was inappropriate that I am made to feel uncomfortable in an establishment where I am supposed to be waited on. And he's lucky I didn't tack "you fucking asshole" onto the end of that "thank you" and that I didn't get up and punch him in his ugly fucking face.
So, then we went to fireworks. We stopped at a store for bug spray. There was none. While there, I saw my friend Don drive by, with someone tall in his passenger seat. Possibly Ed. I mentioned this to my mother, and she had no idea who I was talking about. Making an interesting point that while she tells me that it would be a "good idea" for me to go out with "my little friends" that she doesn't even know who any of these people are. Anyway, this was a mistake. because later last night when we came home, she took a shower (the shower is where she works herself up into having "important conversations") and when she emerged, she told me that she doesn't want me "playing the hermit" anymore, and that I need to call at least one of my friends this summer, and then some other commentary, with the loving remark that there was "something wrong" with me. Gee, thanks, mother.
You know, I'm out of the house all day four days a week. I do a lot of work, that I'm still behind on. I need a day or two to have a fucking rest. And, I don't want to hang out with any of my "little friends". And, I think my mother needs to stop worrying about everything that's "wrong" with me, and worry about what's wrong with her fucking self.
So, yesterday was the birthday of my nation. My stupid town has stupid fireworks that I had to stupid go to. I knew my mother was going to suggest it, and for once I wasn't violently against leaving the house. I was more quietly resigned to the fact that, it being the 4th, I was going to need to go see fireworks. Well. They were pretty. Beforehand, we went for some food stuffs at the diner. (This being New Jersey, we have many. This was one of my small town's two.) Now, at this diner there is a waitman. He's an aggravating and annoying fuckhead. I first encountered him on mother's day, when myself, my mother, my sister, her best friend Cherilyn, and her adorable moppet Cecelia, whom I adore with all my heart and is five. Cecelia did not like this character. This is very telling. He was flirtatious with my sister and Cherilyn. They were both annoyed. He joined in our conversations. We were all annoyed. He sat down at out table. This was all highly inappropriate. My sister was angry, but contained herself well. He remarked that I was quiet. I thought he could go fuck himself. Briefly, this fellow is a fuckhead. I next saw him there after I went out with my friend Toni and we stopped for food. He listened in, and joined in on our conversation. I was highly annoyed an uncomfortable. I don't want to go to that diner because I think he might be there. He's unprofessional and discourteous, and when I realized that he was there yesterday, I wanted to leave.
So, my mother gives him her order.
I give him my order.
"Wait, what was that?" he says, putting down his order-taking-pad and putting his hand up to his ear.
"Chicken fingers." I say in a completely audible tone.
"Oh, hold on, let me get out the microphone," say he, beginning to pantomime reaching for one.
I smile pleasantly. "I WOULD LIKE. SOME CHICKEN. FINGERS," I say in a tone somewhere between conversational and shouting.
"Okay, chicken fingers," quoth he.
"THANK YOU," says I.
I then avoided looking at or speaking to him for the entirity of my meal. I was quite pleased. My mother told me that what I did was inappropriate. Bullshit it was inappropriate. It was inappropriate that I had to repeat my fucking order to this jackass three times. It was inappropriate that I am made to feel uncomfortable in an establishment where I am supposed to be waited on. And he's lucky I didn't tack "you fucking asshole" onto the end of that "thank you" and that I didn't get up and punch him in his ugly fucking face.
So, then we went to fireworks. We stopped at a store for bug spray. There was none. While there, I saw my friend Don drive by, with someone tall in his passenger seat. Possibly Ed. I mentioned this to my mother, and she had no idea who I was talking about. Making an interesting point that while she tells me that it would be a "good idea" for me to go out with "my little friends" that she doesn't even know who any of these people are. Anyway, this was a mistake. because later last night when we came home, she took a shower (the shower is where she works herself up into having "important conversations") and when she emerged, she told me that she doesn't want me "playing the hermit" anymore, and that I need to call at least one of my friends this summer, and then some other commentary, with the loving remark that there was "something wrong" with me. Gee, thanks, mother.
You know, I'm out of the house all day four days a week. I do a lot of work, that I'm still behind on. I need a day or two to have a fucking rest. And, I don't want to hang out with any of my "little friends". And, I think my mother needs to stop worrying about everything that's "wrong" with me, and worry about what's wrong with her fucking self.
Sunday
Friday
Update on the deliquescing heat.
Or: "Jesus Fuck! Didn't I just make an entry yesterday?!"
So, today I feel that I've managed to keep the house reasonably cool. Or, at least I've managed to keep myself reasonably cool by finding another fan and having it blow full strength directly on me. ....And by being unclad only in undergarments. Yes, I am in my underwears. This is not as attractive as it should be, since I also appear to have developed a rash from the heat on my legs, arms, chest, stomach, and back. I am gorgeous. I talked to my mother on the phone, and I told her about it in order to guilt her as she sits in her air conditioned office. It worked most satisfactorily. I'm still hot, though. On the plus side, it's only 93 ? right now. Yay!
There was a while this morning when I couldn't find Bert. I then figured out that he had been locked out on the porch. Doh. He seems to be alright now, he and Lily and passed out as though dead downstairs. But I'm wondering if I should bring him down to the basement, because it's much cooler down there. And Bert's all old and his fur is like, triple thick.
You may think, why don't I go hang out downstairs instead of what is likely the hottest room in the house? Because this is where the computer is. Obviously.
*edit: No, newBlogger, I obviously special characters aren't showing up. What do I need to do to fix that again? Oh wait, I don't care. That was a little degree sign, everyone.
So, today I feel that I've managed to keep the house reasonably cool. Or, at least I've managed to keep myself reasonably cool by finding another fan and having it blow full strength directly on me. ....And by being unclad only in undergarments. Yes, I am in my underwears. This is not as attractive as it should be, since I also appear to have developed a rash from the heat on my legs, arms, chest, stomach, and back. I am gorgeous. I talked to my mother on the phone, and I told her about it in order to guilt her as she sits in her air conditioned office. It worked most satisfactorily. I'm still hot, though. On the plus side, it's only 93 ? right now. Yay!
There was a while this morning when I couldn't find Bert. I then figured out that he had been locked out on the porch. Doh. He seems to be alright now, he and Lily and passed out as though dead downstairs. But I'm wondering if I should bring him down to the basement, because it's much cooler down there. And Bert's all old and his fur is like, triple thick.
You may think, why don't I go hang out downstairs instead of what is likely the hottest room in the house? Because this is where the computer is. Obviously.
*edit: No, newBlogger, I obviously special characters aren't showing up. What do I need to do to fix that again? Oh wait, I don't care. That was a little degree sign, everyone.
Thursday
It's new, it's scary, and I don't like it.
And I don't want to check my posts to see if any special characters I may have used show up properly. I'm at school right now. That sucks. I should have, you know, like, waited until I got home to do this, but I'm bored and I have an hour to kill. To murder. To render dead.
Anyway, yesterday, I wanted to make entries, and Blogger wouldn't let me, because Blogger is the love-child of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Ted Turner, if you know what I mean, and I think Beth does. And now I don't. In brief: Yes, it is nine-million and a half degrees outside. I do not have air conditioning in my home. Please, I don't even want to go into it.
The sun is my enemy. It compounds the trials of living. With any luck, I will soon be able to fly a rocket into it. Today my mood is bitter and exhausted, and this keyboard I'm typing on bites. Hard. I hate this entry. It's so over.
Anyway, yesterday, I wanted to make entries, and Blogger wouldn't let me, because Blogger is the love-child of Jennifer Love Hewitt and Ted Turner, if you know what I mean, and I think Beth does. And now I don't. In brief: Yes, it is nine-million and a half degrees outside. I do not have air conditioning in my home. Please, I don't even want to go into it.
The sun is my enemy. It compounds the trials of living. With any luck, I will soon be able to fly a rocket into it. Today my mood is bitter and exhausted, and this keyboard I'm typing on bites. Hard. I hate this entry. It's so over.
Sunday
Well, fuck you too, subconscious.
It's June 22nd.
Nothing has happened.
So much for the power of my prophetic dreams.
Nothing has happened.
So much for the power of my prophetic dreams.
Thursday
Waterloo. +1.
“She’s an era for you, an era of your life. If and when you break with her, you break with the only one alive who has shared that time with you.”
- Anne Rice, Interview With The Vampire .
I've always liked that quote. It's specifically vague enough to apply to many situations. Kind of like daily horoscopes. And I'm just a sucker for dates. And this one’s fitting. Well, at least when you over-think things the way I do.
I realize that every person who isn't me probably has no idea what the entry up to this point means. Huh. I suppose I really am cryptic, aren't I? Well plainly: I was deleted from the WD today. So here’s a blurb of self-indulgence: Goodbye, #587, Archer Princess, JupiterAmy. (February 26, 2000 - June 19, 2003)
It was real.
- Anne Rice, Interview With The Vampire .
I've always liked that quote. It's specifically vague enough to apply to many situations. Kind of like daily horoscopes. And I'm just a sucker for dates. And this one’s fitting. Well, at least when you over-think things the way I do.
I realize that every person who isn't me probably has no idea what the entry up to this point means. Huh. I suppose I really am cryptic, aren't I? Well plainly: I was deleted from the WD today. So here’s a blurb of self-indulgence: Goodbye, #587, Archer Princess, JupiterAmy. (February 26, 2000 - June 19, 2003)
It was real.
Saturday
A new twist on a very old song.
It's bugging me that my ads are still for weight loss. bettie gets ads for cramps, internet service, and Japanese business prospects. Why can't I get weird crap like that? Come on, BOOKS! SOFTWARE! HUMANITARIAN AID CONCERNS! CUPCAKES!
Eh. So, I read Everyman , which is a medieval morality play. I read it in Middle English, which was kind of cool. It's about a chap called Everyman, who is told by God to prepare for his Final Judgement (duhn duhn duhhhh!!). The eventual moral of the story was that at the end of his life, the only thing that stayed with him were the good deeds he had done in life. Everything else abandoned him.
If this were me, I'd have a different ultimate companion: my issues. Even when I have nothing else, they never quit me. Aw.
Eh. So, I read Everyman , which is a medieval morality play. I read it in Middle English, which was kind of cool. It's about a chap called Everyman, who is told by God to prepare for his Final Judgement (duhn duhn duhhhh!!). The eventual moral of the story was that at the end of his life, the only thing that stayed with him were the good deeds he had done in life. Everything else abandoned him.
If this were me, I'd have a different ultimate companion: my issues. Even when I have nothing else, they never quit me. Aw.
Thursday
Hey, guess who's dead!
This is one of my favorite games. Actually, it's not so much a game as the way I usually announce the news of someone's passing. Someone the informant doesn't know, usually a famous person. I mean, I'm not that sick. So, for today's guess who's dead:
David Brinkley. Well, that song is going to be a lot less fun to sing now, isn't it?
Gregory Peck. This is just very saddenening. I refused to recognize that he became old.
Speaking of dead things, on the subway this week, I noticed that there was the corpse of a dog lying by the side of the track on the stop where I disembark. It's been there all week. It's most likely a spaniel of some kind. I called NJ Transit yesterday and the day before, telling them about it. They said that it would be taken care of, and they apologized for my inconvenience. It's still fucking there. I can't tell you how distressing this is to me. I may have nightmares. I have this fear that it's just going to keep being there and that one day I'm going to walk by and it will be partially skeletal. Sorry, but hey, I'm the one that has to look at it.
Continuing with animals - tomorrow I'm taking Lily to the vet to have her girly organs removed. The office called for a confirmation of her teeth cleaning appointment. This is incredibley distressing. I corrected that, no, she's going to be cut open and her organs will be removed. That's ever so slightly different from having her teeth cleaned. Anyway, it turned out that it's in the computer for the right procedure, it's just down wrong in the appointment book. And this was the secretary I talked to. I know that the doctor is competant and on top of things. But still, I did not find this experience pleasant at all.
Sorry for the graphic nature of this entry. I blame John Webster.
David Brinkley. Well, that song is going to be a lot less fun to sing now, isn't it?
Gregory Peck. This is just very saddenening. I refused to recognize that he became old.
Speaking of dead things, on the subway this week, I noticed that there was the corpse of a dog lying by the side of the track on the stop where I disembark. It's been there all week. It's most likely a spaniel of some kind. I called NJ Transit yesterday and the day before, telling them about it. They said that it would be taken care of, and they apologized for my inconvenience. It's still fucking there. I can't tell you how distressing this is to me. I may have nightmares. I have this fear that it's just going to keep being there and that one day I'm going to walk by and it will be partially skeletal. Sorry, but hey, I'm the one that has to look at it.
Continuing with animals - tomorrow I'm taking Lily to the vet to have her girly organs removed. The office called for a confirmation of her teeth cleaning appointment. This is incredibley distressing. I corrected that, no, she's going to be cut open and her organs will be removed. That's ever so slightly different from having her teeth cleaned. Anyway, it turned out that it's in the computer for the right procedure, it's just down wrong in the appointment book. And this was the secretary I talked to. I know that the doctor is competant and on top of things. But still, I did not find this experience pleasant at all.
Sorry for the graphic nature of this entry. I blame John Webster.
Saturday
MATRIX!
That movie entertained the fuck out of me. Entertained. The Fuck. Out of Me.
For about two hours and twenty minutes, life was good. And pornotastic! indeed.
Thus stating that there are only two things important in life: sex and philosophy.
For about two hours and twenty minutes, life was good. And pornotastic! indeed.
Thus stating that there are only two things important in life: sex and philosophy.
Wednesday
Monday
I actually believe that's the definition of "Fucking A".
So, I went to the CVS to purchase some posterboard for my upcoming dramatic presentation. And also a chocolate. Anyway. Outside, there was a bum smoking a cigarrette, and listening to Led Zeppelin on his portable radio. And I'm talking, like, actual Zeppelin. Like, "Black Mountain Side" and "The Lemon Song". I now officially hate everyone except for that guy. I bet he's got a pretty sweet life. For a bum outside the CVS.
In other news, my hate of a certain other person grows less "paranoid and suspicious" and more "justified and correct" every day.
Oh, and I have also worked Buffy into my presentation. I geek supreme over all of you.
In other news, my hate of a certain other person grows less "paranoid and suspicious" and more "justified and correct" every day.
Oh, and I have also worked Buffy into my presentation. I geek supreme over all of you.
Wednesday
And so, in conclusion, Rutgers can fucking bite me.
No, really, it's only the conclusion that's important. I'm too tired for the whole story, anyway. Let's just say I wound up 5 hours late and $130 short.
Maybe this tale will freak someone's establishment later. And by later, I mean... in a couple minutes.
Maybe this tale will freak someone's establishment later. And by later, I mean... in a couple minutes.
Monday
How to be a mysterious newbie, but get me to like you anyway.
Be this person. This person is like, the kryptonite of my inherent distrust and hatred of everyone. I don't know how I feel about this.
Wednesday
How to lose weight eating Oreos and Coke.
I don't know, you tell me. That's all I've been having for the past week or so, and I seem to keep going down in size. It may have something to do with all the pacing and nervous limb bouncing. Or all the typing, because, man, I could kill someone with these toned forearms.
In other news, I think I have officially done with the WD. I'll write it a five word email or something.
In other news, I think I have officially done with the WD. I'll write it a five word email or something.
Tuesday
Yes, I cried.
I thought I was meh about it, but as I realized that Nerf Herder was serenading me into a new episode for the last time, I got a little misty. However, I held it together until the end, and then three words made me cave. Free shots as to which ones they were.
I really wish I had liked the past two seasons more. I wish they had been better. I think that would have made tonight better for me. Because it was still a "thing," but not the "thing" it could have been. But, yeah. They could have beaten the Big Bad by dancing the hokey pokey, and I still, in the end, would have said "aww." You win, nostalgia. This concludes your spoilerless review of the lastBuffy ever .
Like. a . freaking. fountain. I am such a girl.
I really wish I had liked the past two seasons more. I wish they had been better. I think that would have made tonight better for me. Because it was still a "thing," but not the "thing" it could have been. But, yeah. They could have beaten the Big Bad by dancing the hokey pokey, and I still, in the end, would have said "aww." You win, nostalgia. This concludes your spoilerless review of the lastBuffy ever .
Like. a . freaking. fountain. I am such a girl.
Monday
Alright, seriously.
Why is T3 premiering at Cannes? And why is Kevin Costner still making movies? Why doesn't he get it yet?
And why are there a bunch of birds staring at me from outside my window? Jesus! I'm not the one you want!
And why are there a bunch of birds staring at me from outside my window? Jesus! I'm not the one you want!
Friday
How To, And Not To, Get Along With A Depressed Amy.
This entry is mostly for the benefit of certain blood relatives who don't have an ice cube's chance in Hell of actually reading this, but hopefully we all can get a little sumthin'-sumthin' from this.
1. Realize that my feelings (or lack thereof) do not exist to spite you, or to upset you. Do not expect me to be happy just because you want me to be happy. I am not a happy person. And becoming upset with me because I cannot will myself into happiness will not help me to be happy.
2. If I say that "Nothing" is wrong, even though this is obviously bullshit, accept it. Obviously, I do not want to talk about what is bothering me. You don't want to talk about what's bothering me either, you just want me to stop being upset so that you're allowed to stop worrying about me. Likewise, if I tell you that "I don't want to talk about it" I mean that I do not want to talk about it. I do not mean that I want you to keep hounding me until I'm frustrated and upset and about to cry, and you declare me uncommunicative.
3. Do not get pissed off if I don't show the appropriate amount of interest in what you are saying/showing me. Here's a tip: I am interested. This is me expressing interest. This is as interested as I'm going to get. Chances are, this is all the interest that I can muster. Please see guideline #1.
4. Do not ask me "What's wrong with you?" like I have an arm growing out of my forehead. Perhaps what's wrong with me is the fact that I have to put up with being treated like I'm an insensitive asshole in addition to all of the reasons why I'm depressed in the first place.
5. Don't ask me to give opinions on things. Chances are that I have not thought about whatever it is you're asking me about. Chances are then that you're going to start pressuring to make a decision faster, frustrating and upsetting me and in turn you in the process. As a matter of fact, just make decisions for me. If you want to make plans, just tell me, "We are going to X on X date." I probably won't be enthusiastic. I may not have a good time. But I will go, and enjoy myself to the best that I am able to. I'm actually fairly easygoing when you're not constantly reminding me how difficult I am.
6. I don't like dealing with people. When out in public, there tend to be a lot of people. If you take me somewhere, please do not constantly remark on how it seems like I'm not having a good time. I probably was on my way to having a pretty good time before you reminded me what a lousy time I was having.
7. I know that you want to help. Sometimes, though, it's better not to. Most of the tactics employed in trying to "help" me often make me more upset. They also make me believe that you don't really want to help me, you just want me to act more manageable so that you don't have to put up with me. This does not inspire to be open, chatty, or what you claim to be after: happy.
This list is incomplete and not well written. Luckily, since I'm so depressed, that means I don't care.
1. Realize that my feelings (or lack thereof) do not exist to spite you, or to upset you. Do not expect me to be happy just because you want me to be happy. I am not a happy person. And becoming upset with me because I cannot will myself into happiness will not help me to be happy.
2. If I say that "Nothing" is wrong, even though this is obviously bullshit, accept it. Obviously, I do not want to talk about what is bothering me. You don't want to talk about what's bothering me either, you just want me to stop being upset so that you're allowed to stop worrying about me. Likewise, if I tell you that "I don't want to talk about it" I mean that I do not want to talk about it. I do not mean that I want you to keep hounding me until I'm frustrated and upset and about to cry, and you declare me uncommunicative.
3. Do not get pissed off if I don't show the appropriate amount of interest in what you are saying/showing me. Here's a tip: I am interested. This is me expressing interest. This is as interested as I'm going to get. Chances are, this is all the interest that I can muster. Please see guideline #1.
4. Do not ask me "What's wrong with you?" like I have an arm growing out of my forehead. Perhaps what's wrong with me is the fact that I have to put up with being treated like I'm an insensitive asshole in addition to all of the reasons why I'm depressed in the first place.
5. Don't ask me to give opinions on things. Chances are that I have not thought about whatever it is you're asking me about. Chances are then that you're going to start pressuring to make a decision faster, frustrating and upsetting me and in turn you in the process. As a matter of fact, just make decisions for me. If you want to make plans, just tell me, "We are going to X on X date." I probably won't be enthusiastic. I may not have a good time. But I will go, and enjoy myself to the best that I am able to. I'm actually fairly easygoing when you're not constantly reminding me how difficult I am.
6. I don't like dealing with people. When out in public, there tend to be a lot of people. If you take me somewhere, please do not constantly remark on how it seems like I'm not having a good time. I probably was on my way to having a pretty good time before you reminded me what a lousy time I was having.
7. I know that you want to help. Sometimes, though, it's better not to. Most of the tactics employed in trying to "help" me often make me more upset. They also make me believe that you don't really want to help me, you just want me to act more manageable so that you don't have to put up with me. This does not inspire to be open, chatty, or what you claim to be after: happy.
This list is incomplete and not well written. Luckily, since I'm so depressed, that means I don't care.
Wednesday
The Really Long List Entry.
So, I yammer on occasionally about how I have really eclectic taste in music. As far as most people know, I like Zeppelin. Anyway, for a while, I've been wanting to list all the artists to be found in my mp3 collection. Tonight being my last night of Ethernet, what better time than now, I thought. I'm listing the artists only, because I have some 2,000 mp3s. Do you want me to list them all? I didn't think so. Bear in mind, that this is only my school computer. There are some on my home computer that I'm not going to bother to try to remember. And there are others which I just haven't gotten around to downloading yet. And yet more that I have on CD or vinyl, which I'm not listing. A further disclaimer: I make no apologies for any of these artists. I like some pretty crappy music. I have many songs of some artists, and one of others. I think it's balanced. If you cringe at the lameness of a certain list member, just assume I only have one of theirs. You'll feel better.
Deep breath, here goes.
10cc, 10,000 Maniacs, 3 Doors Down, 311, 38 Special, A3, Aaliyah, Aaliyah & Timbaland, ABBA, Abra Moore, ACDC, Ace Frehley, Adam Sandler, The Adolescents, Aerosmith, Aimee Mann, Air, Al Green, Alabama, Alanis Morissette, Alannah Myles, Alex Toh, Alice Cooper, Alice Deejay, Alicia Keys, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Alix Olson, Allison Moorer, The Allman Brothers Band, Alphaville, Alvin And The Chipmunks, Amanda Ghost, America, Andrea Bocelli, Andrew Bird (And His Bowl Of Fire), Andrew Lloyd Webber, Ani DiFranco, The Animals, Antonio Vivaldi, Aqua, The Archies, Aretha Franklin, Argent, The Association, Azure Ray, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Bad Company, Bad English, Badfinger, The Bangles, The Barenaked Ladies, Barry McGuire, The Bay City Rollers, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Belinda Carlisle, Belle And Sebastian, Ben Taylor, Bethy Pants, Better Than Ezra, Bif Naked, Bikini Kill, Bill Haley & The Comets, Billie Holliday, Billy Idol, Billy Joe Royal, Billy Joel, The Black Crowes, Black Flag, Black Sabbath, Blind Melon, Blink 182, Blondie, The Bloodhound Gang, Blu Cantrell, Blue Oyster Cult, Blues Traveller, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bob Seger, Bobby Darin, Bon Jovi, Bonnie Tyler, Boston, Bread, Bryan Adams, Buddy Holly, Buffalo Springfield, Buffy, Bush, The Byrds, Cabaret, The Cadillacs, The Calling, Canibis & Biz Markie, The Care Bears Theme, Carly Simon, The Carpenters, The Cars, Cat Stevens, Catherine Wheel, Cats, Chad Kroeger & Josey Scott, The Chambers Brothers, The Chantels, The Charlie Daniels Band, Charlie Pride, Cheap Trick, Chicago (the show, not the band), Chris Brayman, Chris Rock, Chuck Berry, Clarence Carter, The Clash, Coldplay, Collective Soul, Collin Raye, Counting Crows, Cowboys Junkies, The Cowsills, Coyote Shivers, Cracker, Craig Davis, The Cranberries, Crazytown, Cream, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Critters, Crosby Stills & Nash, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Crowded House, Crushing Velvet, The Cure, Curve, Cyndi Lauper, Daftpunk, Danny & The Juniors, Dante Thomas, Dave Brubeck, Dave Edmunds, Dave Mason, David Bowie, The David the Gnome Theme, The Dead Kennedys, Debbie Gibson, Deep Blue Something, Deep Purple, Def Leppard, Del, Derek & The Dominoes, Devics, Dion, Dion & The Belmonts, Dire Straits, Disturbed, Divinyls, The Dixie Chicks, Dobie Gray, Don Mclean, Donna Summer, The Doobie Brothers, The Doors, Dragonheart, The Drifters, Dropkick Murphys, Dubs, The Duprees, Duran Duran, Eagle Eye Cherry, Eddie Money, The Edgar Winter Group, Edie Brickell, Edith Piaf, Edith Piaf & Charles Aznavour, Edwin McCain, Ella Fitzgerald, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, Elliot Smith, Electric Light Orchestra, ELP, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Elvis Presley, Eminem, En Vogue, Enigma, Eric Clapton, Erykah Badu, Etta James, Eve, Eve 6, Everclear, Everlast, The Exploited, Faith Hill, Fear, Fear Factory, Feeder, Feel, Fifi, The Fifth Dimension, Filter, Fiona Apple, Firm, Five For Fighting, The Flamingos, Fleetwood Mac, The Flys, Focus, Foghat, Foo Fighters, The Four Tops, François Couperin, Frank Sinatra, Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers, Free, Fuel, Garbage, Garth Brooks, Gary Glitter, Genesis, George Clinton & The Parliament Funkadelic, George Harrison, George Thorogood, Generation X, The Georgia Satellites, Geto Boys, Gladys Knight, Gloria Gaynor, The Go Gos, Godhead, Goldfinger, The Goo Goo Dolls, Gorillaz, Grand Funk Railroad, The Grateful Dead, Green Day, The Guess Who, The Gummi Bears Theme, Guns N' Roses, Guster, The Harptones, Harry Chapin, Harry Nilsson, Heart, Heath Allyn, Hole, The Hollies, Holly Golightly, House Of Pain, Howard Stern, Howie Day, Humble Pie, Ian Van Dahl, Iggy Pop, Incubus, India Arie, The Indigo Girls, INXS, Iron Butterfly, Iron Maiden, Ivy, Jack Ingram, Jackson Browne, Jake Lee Rau, James Brown, The James Gang, James Marsters, James Taylor, Janis Ian, Janis Joplin, Jay Chow, The Jayhawks, Jean Phillipe Rameau, Jeff Buckley, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, Jennifer Armentrout, Jennifer Lopez, Jethro Tull, Jewel, Jim Croce, Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix & John Lennon, Jimmy Buffett, Jimmy Eat World, Joan Baez, Joan Jett, Joan Osborne, Joe Cocker, Joe Walsh, Joey Scarbury, Johann Pachelbel, Johann Sebastian Bach, John Cougar Mellencamp, John Mellencamp, John Fogerty, John Lennon, John Prine, Johnny & Joe, Johnny Cash, Johnny Maestro, Joni Mitchell, Josh Groban, Joshua Kadison, Josie And The Pussycats, Journey, Judas Priest, Juvenile Wreck, Kansas, Kelly Osbourne, Kenny Chesney, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Kermit The Frog, King Missle, King's Quest, The Kingsmen, The Kinks, Kirsten Dunst, KISS, The Knack, LA Guns, Lara Fabian, Lauryn Hill, Lava Baby, Leann Womack, Led Zeppelin, Lee Michaels, The Lemon Pipers, Lenny Kravitz, Leonard Nimoy, Les Misérables, Letters To Cleo, Lifehouse, Lisa Lougheed, Live, Lou Reed, Lovin' Spoonful, Lucinda Williams, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Madonna, Mary J Blige, Mason Williams, Matchbox 20, Matthew Sweet, The Maya The Bee Theme (in English and Hebrew), Mazzy Star, Me, Meatloaf, Melanie C, Melanie Doane, Melissa Etheridge, Michelle Branch, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Milla Jovovich, Minor Threat, Missy Elliott, Missy Elliott & Nelly Furtado, Moby & Gwen Stefani, Modern English, The Moody Blues, Moondogg, Mötley Crüe, Motorace, Mountain, Mr. Big, Muddy Waters, My Vitriol, Mystikal, Nancy Wilson, Natalie Merchant, Nazareth, Neil Young, Neko Case, Nelly Furtado, Nena, Nerf Herder, The New Kids On The Block, The New Pornographers, The New Seekers, The New York Dolls, Newsies, Nicole, Nina Simone, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, No Doubt, Norman Greenbaum, Oasis, The Offspring, One Time Angels, Ophelia's Mirror, The Oranges Band, Otis Redding, The Outlaws, Ozzy Osbourne, Papa Roach, Pat Benatar, Patti Labelle, Patti Smith, Patty Loveless, Patty Smyth, Paul McCartney, Paul Simon, Paul Williams, Paula Abdul, Paula Cole, The Penguins, Pete Townshend, Pete Yorn, Peter Frampton, Peter Paul & Mary, Phantom Planet, Phil Collins, Pink, Pink Floyd, The Pinwheel Theme, The Pizzicato Five, The Platters, The Police, The Pop Mafia, The Presidents of the United States of America, The Pretenders, Procol Harum, Psychedelic Furs, Puddle Of Mudd, Pure Prarie League, Queen, Rage Against The Machine, Rainbow, The Ramones, Rancid, Randy & The Rainbows, Randy Newman, Randy Travis, Rare Earth, Rasputina, Ray Charles, The Real McCoy, Reba McIntyre, The Regents, REM, Richard Marx, Richard Marx & Donna Lewis, Right Said Fred, Rob Halford, Rob Zombie, Robert Miles, Robert Plant, Roberta Flack, Rod Stewart, Rodney Crowell, The Rolling Stones, The Romantics, Roxette, Rush, Ryan Adams, Salt-N-Pepa, Samantha Mumba, Sammy Hagar, Santana, Sarah McLachlan, Savage Garden, Scandal, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Scott & Todd, Semisonic, The Sex Pistols, Sha-Na-Na, Shawn Colvin, Sheila Nicholls, Sheryl Crow, Sigur Rós, Simon & Garfunkel, The Simpsons, Skeeter Davis, The Skyliners, Sleater-Kinney, Smashing Pumpkins, Sophie B. Hawkins, Sophie Zelmani, Souldecision, Southside Johnny, Spacehog, The Specials, The Spice Girls, Split Enz, Squeeze, SR-71, Staind, Steely Dan, Steppenwolf, Steve Martin, The Steve Miller Band, Stevie Nicks, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Stillwater, Sting, The Stooges, Stone Temple Pilots, Stories, The Stray Cats,The Strokes, Strong Bad, Styx, Sublime, Sugarloaf, The Suicide Machines, Sum 41, The Supremes, Susanna Hoffs, Sweet, Switchfoot, Sydney Forest, System Of A Down, T. Rex, Talking Heads, The Temptations, Tenacious D, Tesla, Texas, The Band, The Hobbit, The Little Mermaid, Thelma Houston, Thunderclap Newton, Tiffany, Tim McGraw, Tim McGraw & Faith Hill, Tina Turner, Toad The Wet Sprocket, The Toadies, Todd Rundgren, Tom Petty, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, Tom Waits, Tool, Tori Amos, Tracy Chapman, Traffic, Train, Trisha Yearwood, The Troggs, The Turtles, Twisted Sister, U2, Ugly Kid Joe, Valerie Lewis, The Vandals, Van Halen, Van Morrison, Vanilla Fudge, The Velvet Underground, Vertical Horizon, Vitamin C, Vixen, War, Warrant, Warren Zevon, Weezer, Weird Al Yankovich, Wheatus, The White Stripes, Whitesnake, Whitney Houston, The Who, Wilson Pickett, Wings, The Yardbirds, Yes, The Youngbloods, Zebra, ZZ Top
Reaction?
Deep breath, here goes.
10cc, 10,000 Maniacs, 3 Doors Down, 311, 38 Special, A3, Aaliyah, Aaliyah & Timbaland, ABBA, Abra Moore, ACDC, Ace Frehley, Adam Sandler, The Adolescents, Aerosmith, Aimee Mann, Air, Al Green, Alabama, Alanis Morissette, Alannah Myles, Alex Toh, Alice Cooper, Alice Deejay, Alicia Keys, Alison Krauss & Union Station, Alix Olson, Allison Moorer, The Allman Brothers Band, Alphaville, Alvin And The Chipmunks, Amanda Ghost, America, Andrea Bocelli, Andrew Bird (And His Bowl Of Fire), Andrew Lloyd Webber, Ani DiFranco, The Animals, Antonio Vivaldi, Aqua, The Archies, Aretha Franklin, Argent, The Association, Azure Ray, Bachman Turner Overdrive, Bad Company, Bad English, Badfinger, The Bangles, The Barenaked Ladies, Barry McGuire, The Bay City Rollers, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, Belinda Carlisle, Belle And Sebastian, Ben Taylor, Bethy Pants, Better Than Ezra, Bif Naked, Bikini Kill, Bill Haley & The Comets, Billie Holliday, Billy Idol, Billy Joe Royal, Billy Joel, The Black Crowes, Black Flag, Black Sabbath, Blind Melon, Blink 182, Blondie, The Bloodhound Gang, Blu Cantrell, Blue Oyster Cult, Blues Traveller, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Bob Seger, Bobby Darin, Bon Jovi, Bonnie Tyler, Boston, Bread, Bryan Adams, Buddy Holly, Buffalo Springfield, Buffy, Bush, The Byrds, Cabaret, The Cadillacs, The Calling, Canibis & Biz Markie, The Care Bears Theme, Carly Simon, The Carpenters, The Cars, Cat Stevens, Catherine Wheel, Cats, Chad Kroeger & Josey Scott, The Chambers Brothers, The Chantels, The Charlie Daniels Band, Charlie Pride, Cheap Trick, Chicago (the show, not the band), Chris Brayman, Chris Rock, Chuck Berry, Clarence Carter, The Clash, Coldplay, Collective Soul, Collin Raye, Counting Crows, Cowboys Junkies, The Cowsills, Coyote Shivers, Cracker, Craig Davis, The Cranberries, Crazytown, Cream, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Critters, Crosby Stills & Nash, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Crowded House, Crushing Velvet, The Cure, Curve, Cyndi Lauper, Daftpunk, Danny & The Juniors, Dante Thomas, Dave Brubeck, Dave Edmunds, Dave Mason, David Bowie, The David the Gnome Theme, The Dead Kennedys, Debbie Gibson, Deep Blue Something, Deep Purple, Def Leppard, Del, Derek & The Dominoes, Devics, Dion, Dion & The Belmonts, Dire Straits, Disturbed, Divinyls, The Dixie Chicks, Dobie Gray, Don Mclean, Donna Summer, The Doobie Brothers, The Doors, Dragonheart, The Drifters, Dropkick Murphys, Dubs, The Duprees, Duran Duran, Eagle Eye Cherry, Eddie Money, The Edgar Winter Group, Edie Brickell, Edith Piaf, Edith Piaf & Charles Aznavour, Edwin McCain, Ella Fitzgerald, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, Elliot Smith, Electric Light Orchestra, ELP, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Elvis Presley, Eminem, En Vogue, Enigma, Eric Clapton, Erykah Badu, Etta James, Eve, Eve 6, Everclear, Everlast, The Exploited, Faith Hill, Fear, Fear Factory, Feeder, Feel, Fifi, The Fifth Dimension, Filter, Fiona Apple, Firm, Five For Fighting, The Flamingos, Fleetwood Mac, The Flys, Focus, Foghat, Foo Fighters, The Four Tops, François Couperin, Frank Sinatra, Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers, Free, Fuel, Garbage, Garth Brooks, Gary Glitter, Genesis, George Clinton & The Parliament Funkadelic, George Harrison, George Thorogood, Generation X, The Georgia Satellites, Geto Boys, Gladys Knight, Gloria Gaynor, The Go Gos, Godhead, Goldfinger, The Goo Goo Dolls, Gorillaz, Grand Funk Railroad, The Grateful Dead, Green Day, The Guess Who, The Gummi Bears Theme, Guns N' Roses, Guster, The Harptones, Harry Chapin, Harry Nilsson, Heart, Heath Allyn, Hole, The Hollies, Holly Golightly, House Of Pain, Howard Stern, Howie Day, Humble Pie, Ian Van Dahl, Iggy Pop, Incubus, India Arie, The Indigo Girls, INXS, Iron Butterfly, Iron Maiden, Ivy, Jack Ingram, Jackson Browne, Jake Lee Rau, James Brown, The James Gang, James Marsters, James Taylor, Janis Ian, Janis Joplin, Jay Chow, The Jayhawks, Jean Phillipe Rameau, Jeff Buckley, Jefferson Airplane, Jefferson Starship, Jennifer Armentrout, Jennifer Lopez, Jethro Tull, Jewel, Jim Croce, Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix & John Lennon, Jimmy Buffett, Jimmy Eat World, Joan Baez, Joan Jett, Joan Osborne, Joe Cocker, Joe Walsh, Joey Scarbury, Johann Pachelbel, Johann Sebastian Bach, John Cougar Mellencamp, John Mellencamp, John Fogerty, John Lennon, John Prine, Johnny & Joe, Johnny Cash, Johnny Maestro, Joni Mitchell, Josh Groban, Joshua Kadison, Josie And The Pussycats, Journey, Judas Priest, Juvenile Wreck, Kansas, Kelly Osbourne, Kenny Chesney, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Kermit The Frog, King Missle, King's Quest, The Kingsmen, The Kinks, Kirsten Dunst, KISS, The Knack, LA Guns, Lara Fabian, Lauryn Hill, Lava Baby, Leann Womack, Led Zeppelin, Lee Michaels, The Lemon Pipers, Lenny Kravitz, Leonard Nimoy, Les Misérables, Letters To Cleo, Lifehouse, Lisa Lougheed, Live, Lou Reed, Lovin' Spoonful, Lucinda Williams, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Madonna, Mary J Blige, Mason Williams, Matchbox 20, Matthew Sweet, The Maya The Bee Theme (in English and Hebrew), Mazzy Star, Me, Meatloaf, Melanie C, Melanie Doane, Melissa Etheridge, Michelle Branch, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Milla Jovovich, Minor Threat, Missy Elliott, Missy Elliott & Nelly Furtado, Moby & Gwen Stefani, Modern English, The Moody Blues, Moondogg, Mötley Crüe, Motorace, Mountain, Mr. Big, Muddy Waters, My Vitriol, Mystikal, Nancy Wilson, Natalie Merchant, Nazareth, Neil Young, Neko Case, Nelly Furtado, Nena, Nerf Herder, The New Kids On The Block, The New Pornographers, The New Seekers, The New York Dolls, Newsies, Nicole, Nina Simone, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, No Doubt, Norman Greenbaum, Oasis, The Offspring, One Time Angels, Ophelia's Mirror, The Oranges Band, Otis Redding, The Outlaws, Ozzy Osbourne, Papa Roach, Pat Benatar, Patti Labelle, Patti Smith, Patty Loveless, Patty Smyth, Paul McCartney, Paul Simon, Paul Williams, Paula Abdul, Paula Cole, The Penguins, Pete Townshend, Pete Yorn, Peter Frampton, Peter Paul & Mary, Phantom Planet, Phil Collins, Pink, Pink Floyd, The Pinwheel Theme, The Pizzicato Five, The Platters, The Police, The Pop Mafia, The Presidents of the United States of America, The Pretenders, Procol Harum, Psychedelic Furs, Puddle Of Mudd, Pure Prarie League, Queen, Rage Against The Machine, Rainbow, The Ramones, Rancid, Randy & The Rainbows, Randy Newman, Randy Travis, Rare Earth, Rasputina, Ray Charles, The Real McCoy, Reba McIntyre, The Regents, REM, Richard Marx, Richard Marx & Donna Lewis, Right Said Fred, Rob Halford, Rob Zombie, Robert Miles, Robert Plant, Roberta Flack, Rod Stewart, Rodney Crowell, The Rolling Stones, The Romantics, Roxette, Rush, Ryan Adams, Salt-N-Pepa, Samantha Mumba, Sammy Hagar, Santana, Sarah McLachlan, Savage Garden, Scandal, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Scott & Todd, Semisonic, The Sex Pistols, Sha-Na-Na, Shawn Colvin, Sheila Nicholls, Sheryl Crow, Sigur Rós, Simon & Garfunkel, The Simpsons, Skeeter Davis, The Skyliners, Sleater-Kinney, Smashing Pumpkins, Sophie B. Hawkins, Sophie Zelmani, Souldecision, Southside Johnny, Spacehog, The Specials, The Spice Girls, Split Enz, Squeeze, SR-71, Staind, Steely Dan, Steppenwolf, Steve Martin, The Steve Miller Band, Stevie Nicks, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Stillwater, Sting, The Stooges, Stone Temple Pilots, Stories, The Stray Cats,The Strokes, Strong Bad, Styx, Sublime, Sugarloaf, The Suicide Machines, Sum 41, The Supremes, Susanna Hoffs, Sweet, Switchfoot, Sydney Forest, System Of A Down, T. Rex, Talking Heads, The Temptations, Tenacious D, Tesla, Texas, The Band, The Hobbit, The Little Mermaid, Thelma Houston, Thunderclap Newton, Tiffany, Tim McGraw, Tim McGraw & Faith Hill, Tina Turner, Toad The Wet Sprocket, The Toadies, Todd Rundgren, Tom Petty, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, Tom Waits, Tool, Tori Amos, Tracy Chapman, Traffic, Train, Trisha Yearwood, The Troggs, The Turtles, Twisted Sister, U2, Ugly Kid Joe, Valerie Lewis, The Vandals, Van Halen, Van Morrison, Vanilla Fudge, The Velvet Underground, Vertical Horizon, Vitamin C, Vixen, War, Warrant, Warren Zevon, Weezer, Weird Al Yankovich, Wheatus, The White Stripes, Whitesnake, Whitney Houston, The Who, Wilson Pickett, Wings, The Yardbirds, Yes, The Youngbloods, Zebra, ZZ Top
Reaction?
Sunday
Also.
I think I look really pretty in my picture. Upsettingly pretty.
This would be me fishing for compliments to make me feel better, by the way. Please oblige?
This would be me fishing for compliments to make me feel better, by the way. Please oblige?
Um.
My new abode has no 'net access. Or cable. Ha! It will soon, though, in theory. Or at least, it better. I have my last exam tomorrow, and then I have to haul my ass out of here. Well, actually, my ass will be hauled after Buffy on Tuesday, because you know what? You really can't get UPN reception without cable.
I feel all... eh. There are things going on. School years ending, moving of things, everyone is making some sort of change. Including me. And yet I feel like absolutely nothing is happening. Everyone is doing, and my horrible depressing life is completely static in it's horrible depression. If I knew what the fuck was wrong with me, I'd cry. Right now though, I think I'm too confused.
For Superhero Girl, your moment of Salinger: My mother finally bought new girly wax. I was all zealous about that, so I decided to shape the outside of my eyebrows. Of course, a micromillimeter of sloppiness, and I pulled off a small chunk of my actual eyebrow. I was horrified. Of course, it's actually not that big a gap, and with a small bit of black eyebrow pencil, no one could even tell, even at close inspection that anything was wrong with me. But I still felt like I had only one eyebrow. That's kind of how my days have been lately.
I hope that my exam tomorrow is late. That way I won't have to start studying until tomorrow. Hey, you know what would be so totally awesome? If my life just suddenly and spontaneously ended. That would be the most pleasant of gifts.
I feel all... eh. There are things going on. School years ending, moving of things, everyone is making some sort of change. Including me. And yet I feel like absolutely nothing is happening. Everyone is doing, and my horrible depressing life is completely static in it's horrible depression. If I knew what the fuck was wrong with me, I'd cry. Right now though, I think I'm too confused.
For Superhero Girl, your moment of Salinger: My mother finally bought new girly wax. I was all zealous about that, so I decided to shape the outside of my eyebrows. Of course, a micromillimeter of sloppiness, and I pulled off a small chunk of my actual eyebrow. I was horrified. Of course, it's actually not that big a gap, and with a small bit of black eyebrow pencil, no one could even tell, even at close inspection that anything was wrong with me. But I still felt like I had only one eyebrow. That's kind of how my days have been lately.
I hope that my exam tomorrow is late. That way I won't have to start studying until tomorrow. Hey, you know what would be so totally awesome? If my life just suddenly and spontaneously ended. That would be the most pleasant of gifts.
Friday
Sunlight, what?
I need to start packing stuff. I so haven't even started. Also, there'll a movie on Sundance in about an hour called Amy's Orgasm . Is there any way at all that I will not be staying up to watch this? I think not! Nope. None at all.
Thursday
Wednesday
Angel.
[Begin Spoiler for Home, 4.22 — Highlight to view]
Wesley, Jesus. You and dead Lilah are so queer for each other, why don't you just admit it? Emotional assy-ness is so last year.
That was pretty awesome. But does this mean no more German boy? That would make me rather upset. German boy is awesome. This so needs to be not the last episode of this show.
[End Spoiler]
Wesley, Jesus. You and dead Lilah are so queer for each other, why don't you just admit it? Emotional assy-ness is so last year.
That was pretty awesome. But does this mean no more German boy? That would make me rather upset. German boy is awesome. This so needs to be not the last episode of this show.
[End Spoiler]
Why I love the Pants.
If I were to say to Beth, at around one o'clock in the morning, "Hey Beth! I want my blog to look all different. Design me a new template!" she would respond "Well sure!"
Fin, this chapter.
Fin, this chapter.
Tuesday
Update on the state of my personal well-being.
The panic attacks are becoming more frequent and less manageable.
Wednesday
Monday
Oh, importance!
If you have my home address, you no longer have my home address. For I have moved. Thus, if anything were to be sent to my former address, I probably wouldn't ever get it. (Note: Um... this isn't a subliminal message to send me stuff, or anything.) Any parties interesting in learning of my new whereabouts should contact me via email. If you don't have my email address, tell me so and I'll get to rectifying that.
My home phone number is still the same. In fact, nothing changed from a mail standpoint except my street address.
Thank you.
My home phone number is still the same. In fact, nothing changed from a mail standpoint except my street address.
Thank you.
Sunday
April 2003
Dear Amy,
Last month, our office conducted a survey of students, like yourself, who are receiving financial assistance through the state's Outstanding Scholars Recruitment Program (OSRP). The response to the survey was excellent, as over half of all OSRP students completed the program questionnaire. For your information, I am pleased to share with you the results of that survey.
98% of the university's Outstanding Scholars considered the OSRP scholarship to be Very Important (82%) or Somewhat Important (16%) in their decision to attend Rutgers.
Three-fourths of the university's Outstanding Scholars had been accepted by out-of-state colleges or universities before choosing to attend Rutgers.
68% of the university's Outstanding Scholars plan on attending graduate school after completing their undergraduate work at Rutgers, while 32% intend to enter the workforce.
Two-thirds of the university's Outstanding Scholars plan on staying in New Jersey following graduation from Rutgers.
Clearly, the Outstanding Scholars Recruitment Program has played a vital role in attracting the best and brightest of New Jersey's high school graduates to our state university.
In other words.... we're all here because we're poor and you paid us. I could have told you that. Thank you for reminding me why I am here. ...Oh, and there was other stuff after that blah blah legislators... who cares.
Last month, our office conducted a survey of students, like yourself, who are receiving financial assistance through the state's Outstanding Scholars Recruitment Program (OSRP). The response to the survey was excellent, as over half of all OSRP students completed the program questionnaire. For your information, I am pleased to share with you the results of that survey.
98% of the university's Outstanding Scholars considered the OSRP scholarship to be Very Important (82%) or Somewhat Important (16%) in their decision to attend Rutgers.
Three-fourths of the university's Outstanding Scholars had been accepted by out-of-state colleges or universities before choosing to attend Rutgers.
68% of the university's Outstanding Scholars plan on attending graduate school after completing their undergraduate work at Rutgers, while 32% intend to enter the workforce.
Two-thirds of the university's Outstanding Scholars plan on staying in New Jersey following graduation from Rutgers.
Clearly, the Outstanding Scholars Recruitment Program has played a vital role in attracting the best and brightest of New Jersey's high school graduates to our state university.
In other words.... we're all here because we're poor and you paid us. I could have told you that. Thank you for reminding me why I am here. ...Oh, and there was other stuff after that blah blah legislators... who cares.
Friday
And now for something completely different.
I just walked in my hall, and I smelled the scent of warm food. I could not tell if it was hamburgers or waffles.
Then I thought about that and realized that was pretty gross.
I am now watching The Ring. I hope it's more effective than it was on Matt.
Then I thought about that and realized that was pretty gross.
I am now watching The Ring. I hope it's more effective than it was on Matt.
"It's a girl, Mrs. Walker, it's a girl."
Several weeks ago. Or... I don't know [accurate measure of time] ago, I saw a play in Princeton called Fiction . It was, I must say, excellent. I really, really, really adored it, and on the way back home, I was thinking of all sorts of things to write about it. And then, what with my life needing to be a never ending cycle of shit, shit prevented me from continuing to want to do that. Um... I'm still not going to talk about it. But, anyway, I had to see it for a class, and last week, we discussed it in class. Only my professor (who I ordinarily 'be cool wit') said that the discussion was going to be brief, because he hadn't seen it. Thought it was running longer than it was, blah blah, whatever. Ass. Now, I know it's not his fault, and it's not as if this is a theme. But this was so much better than the usually dreck he sends us off to see and critique, and I was really genuinely disappointed with him that he couldn't provide me with any intelligent discourse on it. Also, the class was small that day, because... well, it's a long story that can pretty much be summed up with the word "douchebags". And of course, no one there appreciated it the way I did, and they hadn't paid attention, several of them didn't go as well. Yet they keep expressing opinions about it. It was so annoying. Their opinions could be logically countermanded, and were formed on part of the show missed, and then the people who hadn't even been to the show started expressing their opinions based on the bullshit they had been hearing from the people who hadn't paid attention.
I wanted to explode. I can't enjoy anything. And I wish to God that people who don't know what they're talking about would just stop talking.
I long to interact with normal, agreeable people. If only I knew where I could get me some of those.
I wanted to explode. I can't enjoy anything. And I wish to God that people who don't know what they're talking about would just stop talking.
I long to interact with normal, agreeable people. If only I knew where I could get me some of those.
Tuesday
To quote Kirk.
"Internet people are weird. I am not like them."
[sigh ] Seriously, we you all always this fucked up and I just never noticed, or is it a more recent development?
[sigh ] Seriously, we you all always this fucked up and I just never noticed, or is it a more recent development?
Sunday
Bye, house.
So, the moveout date is Tuesday. But for me, the moveout date was today, as I am now back at school. Which means that I've walked out of "my house" for the last time. It was weird. I remember distinctly the first time I walked in it (I was three). I didn't like it. My neighbor is unpleasant. The houses are too close together for my liking. And I never did figure out why we aren't religious enough to go to church ever, but we are religious enough to keep a statue of Mary in our backyard. Pfft!
The stairway and the upstairs hallways are bordered by a white bannister. The one little pole-dealy on the corner over the stairs (this would make more sense if you knew what I was talking about) has been lose since we moved in. Of course, this did not prevent me from grabbing it and using it for some swinging-leverage (like a monkey) whenever I came up or down the stairs. I always wondered how long it would hold up. Well, it broke today. Probably when my father was moving stuff downstairs. Figures. Anyway, that's the sort of day it was. [/what?]
Eh. I feel like I should feel. I made sure I walked through all the rooms, and "say goodbye" to them. There's a crawlspace in the basement behind the boiler. We somehow managed to get a large wooden trunk, a suitcase, and my mother's guitar back there, but there doesn't seem to be a pratical way to get them out. So we're leaving them there. My sister said she doesn't want to know if anything has nested in it or something. This turn of events pisses me off. Anyway, so, I was was having all these nostalgic feelings upon my departure, but, you know, in an apathetic way. I did lay down on the bed in the spare room and I wound up falling asleep. Eeeehhhhh.
I left early, because the computer was disconnected, and so was my VCR, so I didn't really know what time it was. "American Pie" played on the radio. That was pretty neat. Did you know that the Joker refers to Bob Dylan?
So, I'm going to go back up next weekend, to help my mother unpack. I have to work on some... well, work this week, and i'm going to go see one of my professors and lie to him shamelessly about why I've been such a lazy schmo this semester. This will be odd. And tiring. I don't have a home anymore, I've realized. I mean, I'll never be homeless. There are lots of places that I can stay, at all times. But I'll be living in "my mother's house" now. There is no "my house". I think of it as my mother's house. I don't have any attachment to it. So I don't really have a home. That idea makes me feel very tired.
Hey, did you know that it's Easter? I found that out this weekend, because I was presented with chocolate. Go Jesus. I miss Human contact.
In other news, where the devil is bettie?
The stairway and the upstairs hallways are bordered by a white bannister. The one little pole-dealy on the corner over the stairs (this would make more sense if you knew what I was talking about) has been lose since we moved in. Of course, this did not prevent me from grabbing it and using it for some swinging-leverage (like a monkey) whenever I came up or down the stairs. I always wondered how long it would hold up. Well, it broke today. Probably when my father was moving stuff downstairs. Figures. Anyway, that's the sort of day it was. [/what?]
Eh. I feel like I should feel. I made sure I walked through all the rooms, and "say goodbye" to them. There's a crawlspace in the basement behind the boiler. We somehow managed to get a large wooden trunk, a suitcase, and my mother's guitar back there, but there doesn't seem to be a pratical way to get them out. So we're leaving them there. My sister said she doesn't want to know if anything has nested in it or something. This turn of events pisses me off. Anyway, so, I was was having all these nostalgic feelings upon my departure, but, you know, in an apathetic way. I did lay down on the bed in the spare room and I wound up falling asleep. Eeeehhhhh.
I left early, because the computer was disconnected, and so was my VCR, so I didn't really know what time it was. "American Pie" played on the radio. That was pretty neat. Did you know that the Joker refers to Bob Dylan?
So, I'm going to go back up next weekend, to help my mother unpack. I have to work on some... well, work this week, and i'm going to go see one of my professors and lie to him shamelessly about why I've been such a lazy schmo this semester. This will be odd. And tiring. I don't have a home anymore, I've realized. I mean, I'll never be homeless. There are lots of places that I can stay, at all times. But I'll be living in "my mother's house" now. There is no "my house". I think of it as my mother's house. I don't have any attachment to it. So I don't really have a home. That idea makes me feel very tired.
Hey, did you know that it's Easter? I found that out this weekend, because I was presented with chocolate. Go Jesus. I miss Human contact.
In other news, where the devil is bettie?
Thursday
Geez, God. You're so petty.
I think the almighty was a bit miffed at my weather commentary. For today, I got rained on, and blown the fuck down! I swear to... well, you know. Now, for reference, I weigh about 135 pounds. Um... possibley less, but I don't think so. I've actually been having a substantive meal almost everyday for the past two weeks. Anyway. You'd think this would be enough bulk to allow me to keep my frame upright. BUT YOU'D BE WRONG! I was actually knocked over by the wind today. Knocked over. By the goddamn wind. I could all but hear it yell "CHILDREN!" at me.
Oh, also, my day was completely crap besides. I did however just take an exam without having studied for it or done any of the readings, and I was still able to answer all the questions. And now I don't have to leave my room anymore. So, perhaps things are looking up.
Oh, also, my day was completely crap besides. I did however just take an exam without having studied for it or done any of the readings, and I was still able to answer all the questions. And now I don't have to leave my room anymore. So, perhaps things are looking up.
Tuesday
Um. This probably is not good.
I think I'm cracking up. No, I mean, really. I chronciled my problems with warmer weather, yes? The bugs, the heat, the light, the noise, the smells, the crushing, teeming, herds of people? It's really a problem. I can't deal with it. There's this painful constriction in my chest, and I get disoriented, and scared, and I want to scream and cry and start punching people and run away. I'm shaking. I don't want to leave my fucking room. I've only gone to two classes so far this week. And that's too much.
I really think that I am crazy.
I really think that I am crazy.
Sunday
As the Earth's bountiful Skin, your Dragon color is...TAN
A TAN Dragon Lies Beneath!
I took the Inner Dragon online quiz and found out I am a Tan Dragon on the inside. My Inner Dragon is the true draconic magic-user. Tans have been all but forgotten in popular literature, but that suits them just fine. They're slightly shy and spend most of their time in impassable mountain valleys. When feeling brave or adventurous, Tans use their shape-shifting ability to blend in with society. Given a choice, however, Tans still much prefer to be left to their own devices.
I like to spend time devising new and interesting spells, and counting my gigantic treasure. My favorable attributes are longevity, security, magic, and reverence for life. To top it off, my breath weapon is a curious mix of Fire and Air. Just tell folks to watch out, like all Tans I've got a seriously short temper!
......Eh?
About me and the things I do
I have decided not to go to my first two classes tomorrow. I decided this early today, and that's very freeing. Now I can do nothing this evening, (ie, I can fiddle around online) and sleep late tomorrow, and perhaps actually do constructive school things.
Um... I probably won't do constructive school things, but let's just assume that I might.
See? It's all planned. Not spontaneous. That makes it less like slacking.
Um... I probably won't do constructive school things, but let's just assume that I might.
See? It's all planned. Not spontaneous. That makes it less like slacking.
Saturday
Way to go, Jimmy - fuck you, Q104.
I am truly an independent woman today. I decided that I wanted cookies, and so I drove to the store at 10:00 PM to buy myself some cookie-making ingredients. On this excursion, I happened to catch some radio chatter on the following subject:
The "reunion tour" of Led Zeppelin. [shudder ] Now, according to announcer dude, Jimmy Page recently stated that there's "no way". Then, the announcer dude expressed skepticism, and disappointment at this claim. He assured listeners that such an endeavor will surely come to pass. Fuck you, announcer dude.
Led Zeppelin cannot rejoin, because Led Zeppelin exists only in the past. Led Zeppelin was a band consisting of four musicians: Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham. Of course and as you know, John Bonham, he be dead. Sans Bonzo, you have Plant, Page, and Jones. That's not Led Zeppelin, that's Plant, Page, and Jones. The three of them recognized at the tail end of 1980 that they were not Led Zeppelin without Bonham, and thus Led Zeppelin became officially no more.
So, reunion tour my ass.
I don't want them to become The Who. Half its members dead, half the remaining incarcerated, and yet, Somehow!, it's still a complete band.[/I've used this joke too much.]
The "reunion tour" of Led Zeppelin. [shudder ] Now, according to announcer dude, Jimmy Page recently stated that there's "no way". Then, the announcer dude expressed skepticism, and disappointment at this claim. He assured listeners that such an endeavor will surely come to pass. Fuck you, announcer dude.
Led Zeppelin cannot rejoin, because Led Zeppelin exists only in the past. Led Zeppelin was a band consisting of four musicians: Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham. Of course and as you know, John Bonham, he be dead. Sans Bonzo, you have Plant, Page, and Jones. That's not Led Zeppelin, that's Plant, Page, and Jones. The three of them recognized at the tail end of 1980 that they were not Led Zeppelin without Bonham, and thus Led Zeppelin became officially no more.
So, reunion tour my ass.
I don't want them to become The Who. Half its members dead, half the remaining incarcerated, and yet, Somehow!, it's still a complete band.[/I've used this joke too much.]
Thursday
Eeeee!!
Eeee! I got a letter today. It was from Crystal! It contained Crystal art!! CRYSTAL ART! It is so pretty. It is very special.
And I actually gasped when I got it.
That was very nice.
Thank you Crystal
And I actually gasped when I got it.
That was very nice.
Thank you Crystal
Wednesday
FYI
My legs are all sore and bruised. It really sucks. The reason for this is that yesterday (or maybe the day before it, I can't really remember) I fell down the stairs. Yes, stairs, and I fell down them. About half a flight. No one was around at the time, though. So, I really only slightly injured my ego. And, well, legs, obviously.
This makes me sad, for reasons unrelated to my legs.
I will now watch Angel . I hope it makes sense this week. In the meantime, I would like words of sympathy. Thank you.
This makes me sad, for reasons unrelated to my legs.
I will now watch Angel . I hope it makes sense this week. In the meantime, I would like words of sympathy. Thank you.
Tuesday
I hate all people
Especially the friendly ones. Dieter's class has been sparsely populated of late, so he's begun taking attendance. Not that I care, I'm always there anyway. On the bus to my next class, a chick gets on and sits down next to me, and immediately engages me in conversation. Are you amused yet? She recognized me from Dieter's (although I think she called it "class". Pfft.) and apparently this will found our lifelong friendship. So I was pumped for information, and I gave it (major, housing, future plans: "I'm not sure" read: fuck off) because I was disinterested and tired. I could tell from her twattle that we had relatively little in common. I figured that she was probably trying to hit on me, but then she started talking about how she had started her own business (I wasn't listening, so I don't really know) and that she was looking for a few other people to help her out, and she thought it might be something I would like, because I seemed like a real people person. I restrained the urge to laugh in her face, but corrected her that no, I really am not a people person. So, she wasn't hitting on me, just oddly trying to rope me into some kind of job or something. Or maybe she was doing both, I'm not sure, but in any event, I was rather pissed off by this encounter. I sincerely hope that I don't ever have to talk to her again.
People have just been looking at me today. And there's been more talking going on than usual. I have no idea why. I don't look any different today than I do on any other day, at least not that I can tell. What the fuck are they all looking at? I'm really glad that I'm staying inside for the rest of the day.
I had the urge to yell at my professor today. There wasn't really any provocation for me to do so. Perhaps I have rage issues. Anyway, I like her, and she seems nice, but she smiles all the time, and I don't trust that. I think there's something wrong with people who smile all the time. I think it's a way to mask other feelings, and I think those people are disingenuous. Note that I am not saying that I don't trust people who are happy all the time, just people who smile all the time.
I saw my cousin when I went to get my mail. I had to manuever so that she didn't see me. I really didn't feel like talking to her stupid ugly face and pretending that I cared about her drunken escapades and how exciting she finds college.
I really, really hate people. Dieter says that hermits don't follow the natural human agenda. Perhaps I'm not a normal human.
People have just been looking at me today. And there's been more talking going on than usual. I have no idea why. I don't look any different today than I do on any other day, at least not that I can tell. What the fuck are they all looking at? I'm really glad that I'm staying inside for the rest of the day.
I had the urge to yell at my professor today. There wasn't really any provocation for me to do so. Perhaps I have rage issues. Anyway, I like her, and she seems nice, but she smiles all the time, and I don't trust that. I think there's something wrong with people who smile all the time. I think it's a way to mask other feelings, and I think those people are disingenuous. Note that I am not saying that I don't trust people who are happy all the time, just people who smile all the time.
I saw my cousin when I went to get my mail. I had to manuever so that she didn't see me. I really didn't feel like talking to her stupid ugly face and pretending that I cared about her drunken escapades and how exciting she finds college.
I really, really hate people. Dieter says that hermits don't follow the natural human agenda. Perhaps I'm not a normal human.
Monday
!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Oh, that's very well done! Funny how people just don't know when to quit.
*whistles * "
GUah!! Everything you say makes me dislike you! That's it. A fucking jihad on this woman. [/Izzard]
*whistles * "
GUah!! Everything you say makes me dislike you! That's it. A fucking jihad on this woman. [/Izzard]
Today was productive because
I saw two Kirsten Dunst movies that I had not seen before. Of course, she was only in the one for like, five minutes. And I didn't see those minutes. I just saw a lot of Meredith Baxter being a drug addict.
It was a Lifetime movie. She makes much better career choices now.
Also, I'm not really watching the second one, because I have apparently completely lost any attention span that I once had. However, from what I've seen, this movie is most likely offensive to every Native American culture ever , and also marks the fourth film I've seen her in in which her main costume is braids and overalls.
This is productivity.
It was a Lifetime movie. She makes much better career choices now.
Also, I'm not really watching the second one, because I have apparently completely lost any attention span that I once had. However, from what I've seen, this movie is most likely offensive to every Native American culture ever , and also marks the fourth film I've seen her in in which her main costume is braids and overalls.
This is productivity.
Thursday
Wednesday
Tuesday
For your reading pleasure,
I promise that this entry will not be depressing. If you're not me. Um... it'll still be boring, though. There's nothing much I can do about that.
Anyso, I have for a long while been endeavoring to learn myself to sing "Con Te Partiro" in Italian. You know, it's the song the blind guy sings. I kept putting it on hold because it's hard . Seriously. The song starts out with 24 words sung in less than 10 seconds. In Italian! I just could not get it. This, even after looking at all the words and understanding what they mean and crap. Still, no go. So, last night, I decided that I'd help myself out and give me some lexical transcription to go along with the orthography. Translation: I sounded it out.
After doing this, I discovered something neat. Phonology isn't bullshit! The theories and crap that I learned about actually have real world applications, in ways that calculus never has! Suck it, math department! What am I going on about? Well, I had been transcribing words like "te" and "che" as "tay" and "kay", respectively. Um, that's an approximation. I can't figure out how to use IPA in my little box. This, to my English speaking ears, was quite regular, since English (or at least, American English) is just chock full'a dipthongs. However, in Italian, what you say is what's written. (Um... unless there's two "zz"s or a "g" in there. Have I mentioned that I don't really know anything about Italian except how to curse someone off in entertainingly vulgar ways?) There are no dipthongs. "Te" is properly transcribed as "teh", or, [voiceless alveolar plosive][schwa]. And what I was at first writing would, to the Mediterranean ear have been "teh-ee", which is how I realized that there was a contrast between words like "se" (seh) and "sei" (seh-ee), which had been confusing me before. I'd been trying to say "say" and "say-ee " or some nutty thing.
What does this have to do with my crappy singing? Aha! Morae. Syllable weight. The theory goes that syllables are broken down to units of weight, called the mora. If it has more than um.... two morae or something (leave me alone, I forgot) then it's a heavy syllable. All of my dipthongin' was creating all sorts of heavy syllables all over the place, where as Andrea was unencumbered. In the first line, I had added 4 morae. In the second line, I added four more. In those initial ten seconds, I was inserting 8 extraneous um... beats, or something like that. The kicker? After having identified and isolated the problem, I can now sing the troublesome lines with relative ease.
And here I thought I was studying useless stuff. [rolleyes]
Anyso, I have for a long while been endeavoring to learn myself to sing "Con Te Partiro" in Italian. You know, it's the song the blind guy sings. I kept putting it on hold because it's hard . Seriously. The song starts out with 24 words sung in less than 10 seconds. In Italian! I just could not get it. This, even after looking at all the words and understanding what they mean and crap. Still, no go. So, last night, I decided that I'd help myself out and give me some lexical transcription to go along with the orthography. Translation: I sounded it out.
After doing this, I discovered something neat. Phonology isn't bullshit! The theories and crap that I learned about actually have real world applications, in ways that calculus never has! Suck it, math department! What am I going on about? Well, I had been transcribing words like "te" and "che" as "tay" and "kay", respectively. Um, that's an approximation. I can't figure out how to use IPA in my little box. This, to my English speaking ears, was quite regular, since English (or at least, American English) is just chock full'a dipthongs. However, in Italian, what you say is what's written. (Um... unless there's two "zz"s or a "g" in there. Have I mentioned that I don't really know anything about Italian except how to curse someone off in entertainingly vulgar ways?) There are no dipthongs. "Te" is properly transcribed as "teh", or, [voiceless alveolar plosive][schwa]. And what I was at first writing would, to the Mediterranean ear have been "teh-ee", which is how I realized that there was a contrast between words like "se" (seh) and "sei" (seh-ee), which had been confusing me before. I'd been trying to say "say" and "say-ee " or some nutty thing.
What does this have to do with my crappy singing? Aha! Morae. Syllable weight. The theory goes that syllables are broken down to units of weight, called the mora. If it has more than um.... two morae or something (leave me alone, I forgot) then it's a heavy syllable. All of my dipthongin' was creating all sorts of heavy syllables all over the place, where as Andrea was unencumbered. In the first line, I had added 4 morae. In the second line, I added four more. In those initial ten seconds, I was inserting 8 extraneous um... beats, or something like that. The kicker? After having identified and isolated the problem, I can now sing the troublesome lines with relative ease.
And here I thought I was studying useless stuff. [rolleyes]
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